#And they’re all coming out next year

[xyztrio721]

NINTENDO WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!

[theotherbuckley]

Okay but Tommy drops out of high school — he told his father he was gay and he told him he could either be homeless or go to military school. He goes to military school and joins the army and he likes flying the helicopters because it means he doesn’t have to do any of the killing himself. And he makes some friends.

There's one guy who's like the squad leader who's a few years old and built like a Greek god and Tommy's young and a little bit in love. And they're friends maybe even family because this whole group of people spend every waking (and sleeping) moment together. And they all talk like a family and they all say they love each other and tease each other and it's nice. And one night it's just the two of them trading a flask of some sort of alcohol that Tommy doesn't know the name of and the man asks Tommy why he joined the army and where he wants to be in five years and Tommy trusts this man. He's half way in love with him so he doesn't even think twice before he tells the story about the time he came out to his family and his father nearly beat him to death before sending him here. And the conversation tapers off after that and he doesn’t register the change in the air but when he wakes up the next morning he’s being dishonourably discharged because he poses “unacceptable risk to the high standards of morale, good order and discipline, and unit cohesion that are the essence of military capability”. He knows what that means.

Tommy joins the fire department because he doesn’t know what else to do. He represses anything regarding his sexuality because he knows now that it’s wrong. He almost feels like he has a family again because his captain seems to like him and some of the guys are cool even if they say things he doesn’t agree with. And then he starts agreeing because maybe they’re right and he’s wrong and he’s just inherently wrong. So he follows their leads and is just straight racist because that’s how he can fit in.

And then a black lesbian woman joins and says she’s a black lesbian woman and Tommy doesn’t understand that either because you can’t be queer you just can’t be because it’s wrong.

But he nearly dies and and an Asian man saves his life and a black lesbian woman comes up with a better idea than any of them had and she tells them she’s no different and she is just as capable. So he improves himself he does and he tries to be better but he still can’t be who he is because the last 2 times he was honest about that he was betrayed.

Tommy leaves the 118 and “don’t ask, don’t tell” is lifted and he meets this guy he likes who likes him back and the 217 don’t seem to have a problem with the gender neutral pronouns and he slowly but surely lets himself open up again and be who he is and when the thing with that guy doesn’t work out because he’s moving to New York and Tommy’s not sure he’s ready to leave, it’s okay because his crew is there and they support him and he can still be himself.

[i-like-forcefem]

Interested in forcefemming as a guy and now the other 4 "guys" in a discord server have come out as transbians. I didn't do anything and now I'm the only cis guy left in the server. What happened is this normal? Did you do it?

Perish the thought cutie! I’d never do anything like that!!! Though as a totally uninvolved bystander I would be a little worried if I were you

Though if whoever is doing this is anything like me she definitely won’t leave the job at 80% compeltion

And if she’s anyone like me she might’ve even taught your friends how to transform you next!

But don’t worry, I’ve never met anyone else who’d do something like that, and it’s not like I’m involved here~

[chasedeys]

oh em gee im a ravens fan 😞💔. i also adore lamar …would love to hear your thoughts on lamar/derrick and/or lamar/kyle 🤗🤗

ALSJDJSJ HELLOOO 😭😭 first of all sorrows sorrows prayers 💔 and like. slight apologies did my sudden rooting for the ravens bc the lions booked it (sorrows sorrows prayers also 😔….apologies did my sudden rooting for the lions—😭) bring you shit luck like. how the fuck... BUT ANYWAYS BRINGING JOYYYY with some rpf talk akhdskjs wow brought this upon myself i dont really like know much abt the ravens ship wise argrhgrh like i don’t think anybody has asked me any ship outside of the bengals?? outside of joemarr really 😭 like no one has even asked me abt jjkoc whom i adore and bring up constantly even on asks abt joemarr?? 😭 (EDIT: THANK YOU CASEY AND CHRISNOELIE WHO HAVE LITERALLY JUST SENT ASKS 😭😭❤️) that’s such a shame (to be fair i dont really. know that many ships or show. that i like ship that many either lmao) 😔 OH WELL OKAY USING THIS LIKE. FOR MY PORTFOLIO what fucking portfolioaksjsksksk yapped abt any ship of my own volition am actually sweating a bit at this bc like. i dont actually?? know them??? so this is mostly like from Vibes ive seen from clips of them floating around here and twt and ig that have spurred the Fire in me to just. See Shit. do you get me.

bengals mutuals who are sensitive abt ravens pls look away 🫶 and like don’t block me aksjsksk let me rpf in peace i beg 😭 i just see pretty men with chemistry and i want to see them kiss 😔

AUGH prefacing this with like. the only thing ive actually written shippy wise abt the ravens is that one lamar/ja’marr thing im actually so fucking fond offfff in that shippy rpf list thing i did way back oh that led that one ask i got damn wait i actually have gotten an ask outside of joemarr like that frock and also on lamar/ja’marr!!!!! god i should do that thing again akhdksjs ANYWAYS SORRY MOVING ON (wait no. lamar/ja’marr. still so enamored. sorry. it’s the ja’marr truther in me i fear.)

disclaimer my characterization (???? for rpf?????) of them may be skewed???? because like. i haven’t been as deep into their lore as i am with joemarr and the bengals. and like their history isn’t as deeply documented here as joemarrs is lol. i follow. 2 people tops including you who are ravens fans. several others with running back adoration shining through too so. like. keep that in mind 😭

DERRICK LAMAR HERE WE GOOOOO FUCKKKKK do you know. how fucking enamored i am. that derrick has been so fucking steadfast in his defense of lamar as a quarterback. he’s so. all his tweets. all his quotes. oh my godddd. he’s soooooo. he came to fucking ravens because lamar is the fucking quarterback???? all those clapbacks he did saying lamar is his qb????? i don’t actually recall all his tweets sorry are they tweets wow but like. all i remember are just. vibes. and those vibes are just. him basically saying. fuck you i know what im all about and that’s lamar fucking jackson keep his name out of your mouth. thats hot as shitttttt are you kidding me 😭😭 and he’s gorgeous. fucking beautiful. he’s fucking huge and downright shameless about it. he wears his tops like they’re a suggestion rather than a necessity. i think he’d rather wear crop tops on the daily actually. we should start petitioning nfl uni changes to like. crop tops. see through pads too. he’d be overjoyed, i think. i’d be overjoyed. also.

and lamar’s like. murder in his mind but also fucking hilarious this man in the playoffs talking abt how he’s here to compete not be friends with other qbs or something like that idk i forgot whatever it is he said that one presser abt josh? (?) but just like. one track minded (understandable btw something to prove being mvp however many times and yet. always falling short in the playoffs. just. yikes. for him. god. i feel so terrible for him 😬) but also. the entire beyonce thing 😭 hilarious. the christmas thing where he kind of disappeared?? where the hell was he 😭 what was that hard knocks ep akdhsksk i forgot and like his presser clips that sometimes pop byyyy hes cute idc idc but like sorry if im jumping here and there here back to derrick a bit so i can lead back to lamar -> derricks super chill? or well. he’s sooooo sure of himself. hes 31. 8 years itl nothing rattles him. he knows what he wants. immovable. doesn’t quake that easy. but like stressing again: knows what he wants. pro bowl? sure. ravens because the quarterbacks lamar jackson? sure. like it doesn’t really take much to rattle him yk?? like as far as i can seeee auagahagh i don’t really see many clips of himmm though i did see him dance with zay i think?? cuteeeee whimsy showing up when urged with all these new guys he’s getting comfy with!!! and alsoooo ive seen him hype the ever living shittttt out of saquon!!! that’s some cute shit. signing into the ravens with some lowballed contract too i think?? says something abt him!! idk chill is a word id use abt him. his reaction to the probowl is still so fucking 😭 but again, knows what he wants. which: lamar. who, again: one track minded, gets incredibly shitty jokey jokes at the most random of times, mentions his mother cussing him out shamelessly, jokes about going out to see beyonce during halftime, cannot help himself mentioning a meme from a reporters name, etc etc and also. gives me the vibes of. not really catching anyone putting down any moves on him. because he thinks they’re just appreciating his quarterbacking. and derricks reallyyyyyyy good at that. hyping the everliving shittttt out of him. praising him on all platforms and straight to his face. from day one. coming into the ravens bc hes the qb. outright saying that so he knows exactly what to expect from derrick and what to do to level up to him. so like. super cute to think of derrick asking him out and lamar just. not clicking 😭 and lamar praising him right back toooooo 😭 all his shit being super technical while derricks just waiting. to be wooed back. because he’s thinking like. oh lamars pretty smart yk he knows what derrick wants and has been doing no way he doesn’t and he’s so fucking sure of himself no way lamar isn’t wanting him back but lamar isn’t fucking doing anythinggggg. he’s just. being a really good teammate. derrick hasn’t heard a single actual flirtatious thing that isn’t like. you’re really good at football that’s such a sexy run and he’s all that winona ryder confused math meme trying to think if that’s an actual pick up line but he’s seen lamar flirt in clubs to get better seats or better shelved drinks if the bartender doesnt recognize them damn it when the fuck is he getting the full experience. until it slowly dawns on him he doesn’t fucking realize that derrick has been outright fucking flirting with him. WHICH leads tooo a bit of lamar/kyle which is like only because of that one clip aksfaksl wait okay THIS IS A MESS UGH SORRY ->

lamar/kyle!!! i know not much about them tbh!!! just that kyle is fucking gorgeousssssssss and lamar is toooooo oh my god. oh my god that one clip. that one fucking clip. of kyle coming up to lamar. and back hugging him. wait let me fucking find it auagahsgsu IS THAT NOT THE CUTEST SHIT????? i am superrrrr into this dynamic of like. heavy devotion into your quarterback because of how fucking GOOD they are. like. tell me that entire fucking team isn’t the least bit besotted with lamar fucking jackson. (i have like. the slightest clue of the ravens roster tbh. sorry. i do the same shit with like. joe. all those boys. enamored with him. because he's so fucking good. argrhgrhh. see also: bryce lol) but that fucking clipppp the casual intimacyyyy the casual mindless way kyle trots to lamar talking to the coaches and slaps at his shoulder and decides to just latch on to him locking his wrists??? the hell is he doing??? CUTE. ARGHRGH. i didnt even know he moved this way btw 😭😭 and lamar's hands coming up to fumble distractedly at kyles wrists like did he even know. who that was. he didnt even really break a stride with his convo and no. 53 didnt even look at kyle weird?? do his guys usually just latch on to him like this. that's so cute the hell. i need to know more. do they do this often. hello. talk to me do they just latch on to him this often hello. hello. how many of his guys just have like. puppy crush on him. because this is what this is to me lmao like. a little hero worship. lamars ass doesn't see what this is 😭 he's fucking oblivious. (god you gotta tell me if I'm like reaching or off my fucking rockers or however the saying goes btw like again i got this out of Vibes) -> AND BACK TO DERRICK WHO SEES THIS ->

a little derrick seeing this from the corner of his eye. a little nudge to lamars belly. a little smirk. a little 'what he likes you?' 'what' 'what' 'what do you mean what' 'oh i see you’re a little dumb on things like this thats okay' 'on things like what what do you mean' 'its fine hey were still on this friday right' 'what yeah that fancy place on so so street right why is it so important that i wear a black tie anyway' 'because its supposed to be a date you dumbass god i really do have to spell it out for you' 'what' 'what what' '….what' AUAGHAHDHS CUTE CUTE no really you gotta tell me is my characterization right 😭 like. is it. help me. derrick seems so fucking sure of himself and like so fucking into lamar and lamar is like right back at derrick but!! well i guess for narratives sake im making it seem like lamars fucking oblivious lmaooo so. well.

hence -> yes next friday is a romantic formal dinner date lamar jackson. yes i am asking you out for an actual dinner date. as a romantic partner. that might end the night in making out. and sex, even, if you put out on, like, the sixth date if you actually realize that that's the sixth date—yes, that will be the sixth date, it’s okay, don’t worry about it. no, i won’t slow down, don’t run away. no yes of course you've never run away from something once in your life. yes, we can kiss now, c'mere. 

and do not. get me started. on all of lamar’s fucking reaction. to derrick’s running. and also i think i saw an interview clip of derrick calling lamar L………did i hallucinate that...............also the locker room pics 😭😭 girl derrick pull down your fucking jersey oh my godddd why is he like this why are there so many fucking pics of them just side by side or like shaking?? hands??? idk just in the presence of each other and is it the mandela effect why do i keep recalling him with his tummy out. (vs demure ass lamar covered head to toe idk i feel like i constantly see him in full gear?? is he like easily cold or like is that a stylistic choice or like. is that the norm with him or. like. am i just used to him wearing a shiesty during winter.)

apologies if this is like. more of a mess than my usual answer to asks 😔 whole other ship more unknown to me and like. typed this in my phone instead of on my laptop. answered in between classes which is where i am at life now apparently damn it is that the status quo now fuckjddkjsksksks

also shot myself in the foooottttt lmaoooo complaining abt not getting any jjkoc asks 😭 thank you for sending me asks i am ECSTATICCCCCC to be answering those but damn. when the fuck am i finishing this class 😃 SORRY FOR CONSTANTLY COMPLAINING ABOUT IT BTW SOMEWHERE EVERYWHERE IN THIS BLOG BUT LIKE. FUCK IS THIS SHITTTTT AUGHGUGHUGHUGHUGH abt to kms

[grimmweepers]

life comes at you so fast

[jalboyhenthusiast]

-

[swordmaid]

this dialogue path im so 😭😭🤭🤭

[kastukj]

I hate micro transactions and permanently limited content I hate micro transactions and permanently limited content I HATE MICRO TRANSACTIONS AND PERMANENTLY LIMITED CONTENT

[edge-oftheworld]

when I was in high school there was a tendency whenever there was an attractive boy to simply fan over him. in a way that talked over everything he might say for himself and created a narrative that completely ignored, the fact in some cases, that he was really struggling—or if he was struggling, to pin all the blame on the girl he’s dating and completely ignore the thousands of other factors (no it can’t be mental illness or unaccommodated disability or systemic abuse or exploitation and if he is in an abusive relationship we won’t ever consider the factors that put him at risk for that)

and I’m not saying this fandom is like that. I get the need for privacy around some things and how in public conversations sometimes it’s a lot more respectful to stick to the positives (everyone who does that, I admire you) or even the struggles that are talked about publicly, show respect by not reading too far into them. there’s a time and place for that. but sometimes I feel like our only options are shitty and ableist gossip or totally ignoring the systemic and structural issues we know exist in something like the music industry until someone dies and then we’re looking for someone to blame. friends, there is a point where the respectful thing is to listen to what someone says and come together to make things better. and you can learn how to have that conversation respectfully. please do

[dancedance-resolution]

my boobs have been hurting pretty badly??? i just started on the birth control patch in my latest attempt to deal with pmdd so it’s probably just that but like. jeez. give me a break

[iliveinprocrasti-nationn]

“hey so there’s been a bunch of exposures recently but we’re gonna have the volunteer party this week bc it’s outdoors so we’ll be fine. yeah it’s a bunch of people all talking maskless face to face in relatively close proximity but we’re outside so any transmission would of course be impossible” be so fucking for real

[joutsummer]

according to jarno widar, the explanation for his performance at l’avenir is just fatigue - says he told the team months ago that he was racing too much and that it would affect him “and we see where that has led to”

[camscendants]

The way we’re gonna have Arcane season 2 and the next life is strange game next year

[patchodraws]

uh oh guys, it’s bad (has come up with a new paper girls fic idea)

[deus-ex-mona]

tmw you give someone concise instructions but they ✨just do not get it✨

[therealbeachfox]

Twenty years ago, February 15th, 2004, I got married for the first time.

It was twenty years earlier than I ever expected to.

To celebrate/comemorate the date, I'm sitting down to write out everything I remember as I remember it. No checking all the pictures I took or all the times I've written about this before. I'm not going to turn to my husband (of twenty years, how the f'ing hell) to remember a detail for me.

This is not a 100% accurate recounting of that first wild weekend in San Francisco. But it -is- a 100% accurate recounting of how I remember it today, twenty years after the fact.

Join me below, if you would.

2004 was an election year, and much like conservatives are whipping up anti-trans hysteria and anti-trans bills and propositions to drive out the vote today, in 2004 it was all anti-gay stuff. Specifically, preventing the evil scourge of same-sex marriage from destroying everything good and decent in the world.

Enter Gavin Newstrom. At the time, he was the newly elected mayor of San Francisco. Despite living next door to the city all my life, I hadn’t even heard of the man until Valentines Day 2004 when he announced that gay marriage was legal in San Francisco and started marrying people at city hall.

It was a political stunt. It was very obviously a political stunt. That shit was illegal, after all. But it was a very sweet political stunt. I still remember the front page photo of two ancient women hugging each other forehead to forehead and crying happy tears.

But it was only going to last for as long as it took for the California legal system to come in and make them knock it off.

The next day, we’re on the phone with an acquaintance, and she casually mentions that she’s surprised the two of us aren’t up at San Francisco getting married with everyone else.

“Everyone else?” Goes I, “I thought they would’ve shut that down already?”

“Oh no!” goes she, “The courts aren’t open until Tuesday. Presidents Day on Monday and all. They’re doing them all weekend long!”

We didn’t know because social media wasn’t a thing yet. I only knew as much about it as I’d read on CNN, and most of the blogs I was following were more focused on what bullshit President George W Bush was up to that day.

"Well shit", me and my man go, "do you wanna?" I mean, it’s a political stunt, it wont really mean anything, but we’re not going to get another chance like this for at least 20 years. Why not?

The next day, Sunday, we get up early. We drive north to the southern-most BART station. We load onto Bay Area Rapid Transit, and rattle back and forth all the way to the San Francisco City Hall stop.

We had slightly miscalculated.

Apparently, demand for marriages was far outstripping the staff they had on hand to process them. Who knew. Everyone who’d gotten turned away Saturday had been given tickets with times to show up Sunday to get their marriages done. My babe and I, we could either wait to see if there was a space that opened up, or come back the next day, Monday.

“Isn’t City Hall closed on Monday?” I asked. “It’s a holiday”

“Oh sure,” they reply, “but people are allowed to volunteer their time to come in and work on stuff anyways. And we have a lot of people who want to volunteer their time to have the marriage licensing offices open tomorrow.”

“Oh cool,” we go, “Backup.”

“Make sure you’re here if you do,” they say, “because the California Supreme Court is back in session Tuesday, and will be reviewing the motion that got filed to shut us down.”

And all this shit is super not-legal, so they’ll totally be shutting us down goes unsaid.

00000

We don’t get in Saturday. We wind up hanging out most of the day, though.

It’s… incredible. I can say, without hyperbole, that I have never experienced so much concentrated joy and happiness and celebration of others’ joy and happiness in all my life before or since. My face literally ached from grinning. Every other minute, a new couple was coming out of City Hall, waving their paperwork to the crowd and cheering and leaping and skipping. Two glorious Latina women in full Mariachi band outfits came out, one in the arms of another. A pair of Jewish boys with their families and Rabbi. One couple managed to get a Just Married convertible arranged complete with tin-cans tied to the bumper to drive off in. More than once I was giving some rice to throw at whoever was coming out next.

At some point in the mid-afternoon, there was a sudden wave of extra cheering from the several hundred of us gathered at the steps, even though no one was coming out. There was a group going up the steps to head inside, with some generic black-haired shiny guy at the front. My not-yet-husband nudged me, “That’s Newsom.” He said, because he knew I was hopeless about matching names and people.

Ooooooh, I go. That explains it. Then I joined in the cheers. He waved and ducked inside.

So dusk is starting to fall. It’s February, so it’s only six or so, but it’s getting dark.

“Should we just try getting in line for tomorrow -now-?” we ask.

“Yeah, I’m afraid that’s not going to be possible.” One of the volunteers tells us. “We’re not allowed to have people hang out overnight like this unless there are facilities for them and security. We’d need Porta-Poties for a thousand people and police patrols and the whole lot, and no one had time to get all that organized. Your best bet is to get home, sleep, and then catch the first BART train up at 5am and keep your fingers crossed.

Monday is the last day to do this, after all.

00000

So we go home. We crash out early. We wake up at 4:00. We drive an hour to hit the BART station. We get the first train up. We arrive at City Hall at 6:30AM.

The line stretches around the entirety of San Francisco City Hall. You could toss a can of Coke from the end of the line to the people who’re up to be first through the doors and not have to worry about cracking it open after.

“Uh.” We go. “What the fuck is -this-?”

So.

Remember why they weren’t going to be able to have people hang out overnight?

Turns out, enough SF cops were willing to volunteer unpaid time to do patrols to cover security. And some anonymous person delivered over a dozen Porta-Poties that’d gotten dropped off around 8 the night before.

It’s 6:30 am, there are almost a thousand people in front of us in line to get this literal once in a lifetime marriage, the last chance we expect to have for at least 15 more years (it was 2004, gay rights were getting shoved back on every front. It was not looking good. We were just happy we lived in California were we at least weren’t likely to loose job protections any time soon.).

Then it starts to rain.

We had not dressed for rain.

00000

Here is how the next six hours go.

We’re in line. Once the doors open at 7am, it will creep forward at a slow crawl. It’s around 7 when someone shows up with garbage bags for everyone. Cut holes for the head and arms and you’ve got a makeshift raincoat! So you’ve got hundreds of gays and lesbians decked out in the nicest shit they could get on short notice wearing trashbags over it.

Everyone is so happy.

Everyone is so nervous/scared/frantic that we wont be able to get through the doors before they close for the day.

People online start making delivery orders.

Coffee and bagels are ordered in bulk and delivered to City Hall for whoever needs it. We get pizza. We get roses. Random people come by who just want to give hugs to people in line because they’re just so happy for us. The tour busses make detours to go past the lines. Chinese tourists lean out with their cameras and shout GOOD LUCK while car horns honk.

A single sad man holding a Bible tries to talk people out of doing this, tells us all we’re sinning and to please don’t. He gives up after an hour. A nun replaces him with a small sign about how this is against God’s will. She leaves after it disintegrates in the rain.

The day before, when it was sunny, there had been a lot of protestors. Including a large Muslim group with their signs about how “Not even DOGS do such things!” Which… Yes they do.

A lot of snide words are said (by me) about how the fact that we’re willing to come out in the rain to do this while they’re not willing to come out in the rain to protest it proves who actually gives an actual shit about the topic.

Time passes. I measure it based on which side of City Hall we’re on. The doors face East. We start on Northside. Coffee and trashbags are delivered when we’re on the North Side. Pizza first starts showing up when we’re on Westside, which is also where I see Bible Man and Nun. Roses are delivered on Southside. And so forth.

00000

We have Line Neighbors.

Ahead of us are a gay couple a decade or two older than us. They’ve been together for eight years. The older one is a school teacher. He has his coat collar up and turns away from any news cameras that come near while we reposition ourselves between the lenses and him. He’s worried about the parents of one of his students seeing him on the news and getting him fired. The younger one will step away to get interviewed on his own later on. They drove down for the weekend once they heard what was going on. They’d started around the same time we did, coming from the Northeast, and are parked in a nearby garage.

The most perky energetic joyful woman I’ve ever met shows up right after we turned the corner to Southside to tackle the younger of the two into a hug. She’s their local friend who’d just gotten their message about what they’re doing and she will NOT be missing this. She is -so- happy for them. Her friends cry on her shoulders at her unconditional joy.

Behind us are a lesbian couple who’d been up in San Francisco to celebrate their 12th anniversary together. “We met here Valentines Day weekend! We live down in San Diego, now, but we like to come up for the weekend because it’s our first love city.”

“Then they announced -this-,” the other one says, “and we can’t leave until we get married. I called work Sunday and told them I calling in sick until Wednesday.”

“I told them why,” her partner says, “I don’t care if they want to give me trouble for it. This is worth it. Fuck them.”

My husband-to-be and I look at each other. We’ve been together for not even two years at this point. Less than two years. Is it right for us to be here? We’re potentially taking a spot from another couple that’d been together longer, who needed it more, who deserved it more.”

“Don’t you fucking dare.” Says the 40-something gay couple in front of us.

“This is as much for you as it is for us!” says the lesbian couple who’ve been together for over a decade behind us.

“You kids are too cute together,” says the gay couple’s friend. “you -have- to. Someday -you’re- going to be the old gay couple that’s been together for years and years, and you deserve to have been married by then.”

We stay in line.

It’s while we’re on the Southside of City Hall, just about to turn the corner to Eastside at long last that we pick up our own companions. A white woman who reminds me an awful lot of my aunt with a four year old black boy riding on her shoulders. “Can we say we’re with you? His uncles are already inside and they’re not letting anyone in who isn’t with a couple right there.” “Of course!” we say.

The kid is so very confused about what all the big deal is, but there’s free pizza and the busses keep driving by and honking, so he’s having a great time.

We pass by a statue of Lincoln with ‘Marriage for All!’ and "Gay Rights are Human Rights!" flags tucked in the crooks of his arms and hanging off his hat.

It’s about noon, noon-thirty when we finally make it through the doors and out of the rain.

They’ve promised that anyone who’s inside when the doors shut will get married. We made it. We’re safe.

We still have a -long- way to go.

00000

They’re trying to fit as many people into City Hall as possible. Partially to get people out of the rain, mostly to get as many people indoors as possible. The line now stretches down into the basement and up side stairs and through hallways I’m not entirely sure the public should ever be given access to. We crawl along slowly but surely.

It’s after we’ve gone through the low-ceiling basement hallways past offices and storage and back up another set of staircases and are going through a back hallway of low-ranked functionary offices that someone comes along handing out the paperwork. “It’s an hour or so until you hit the office, but take the time to fill these out so you don’t have to do it there!”

We spend our time filling out the paperwork against walls, against backs, on stone floors, on books.

We enter one of the public areas, filled with displays and photos of City Hall Demonstrations of years past.

I take pictures of the big black and white photo of the Abraham Lincoln statue holding banners and signs against segregation and for civil rights.

The four year old boy we helped get inside runs past us around this time, chased by a blond haired girl about his own age, both perused by an exhausted looking teenager helplessly begging them to stop running.

Everyone is wet and exhausted and vibrating with anticipation and the building-wide aura of happiness that infuses everything.

The line goes into the marriage office. A dozen people are at the desk, shoulder to shoulder, far more than it was built to have working it at once.

A Sister of Perpetual Indulgence is directing people to city officials the moment they open up. She’s done up in her nun getup with all her makeup on and her beard is fluffed and be-glittered and on point. “Oh, I was here yesterday getting married myself, but today I’m acting as your guide. Number 4 sweeties, and -Congradulatiooooons!-“

The guy behind the counter has been there since six. It’s now 1:30. He’s still giddy with joy. He counts our money. He takes our paperwork, reviews it, stamps it, sends off the parts he needs to, and hands the rest back to us. “Alright, go to the Rotunda, they’ll direct you to someone who’ll do the ceremony. Then, if you want the certificate, they’ll direct you to -that- line.” “Can’t you just mail it to us?” “Normally, yeah, but the moment the courts shut us down, we’re not going to be allowed to.”

We take our paperwork and join the line to the Rotunda.

If you’ve seen James Bond: A View to a Kill, you’ve seen the San Francisco City Hall Rotunda. There are literally a dozen spots set up along the balconies that overlook the open area where marriage officials and witnesses are gathered and are just processing people through as fast as they can.

That’s for the people who didn’t bring their own wedding officials.

There’s a Catholic-adjacent couple there who seem to have brought their entire families -and- the priest on the main steps. They’re doing the whole damn thing. There’s at least one more Rabbi at work, I can’t remember what else. Just that there was a -lot-.

We get directed to the second story, northside. The San Francisco City Treasurer is one of our two witnesses. Our marriage officient is some other elected official I cannot remember for the life of me (and I'm only writing down what I can actively remember, so I can't turn to my husband next to me and ask, but he'll have remembered because that's what he does.)

I have a wilting lily flower tucked into my shirt pocket. My pants have water stains up to the knees. My hair is still wet from the rain, I am blubbering, and I can’t get the ring on my husband’s finger. The picture is a treat, I tell you.

There really isn’t a word for the mix of emotions I had at that time. Complete disbelief that this was reality and was happening. Relief that we’d made it. Awe at how many dozens of people had personally cheered for us along the way and the hundreds to thousands who’d cheered for us generally.

Then we're married.

Then we get in line to get our license.

It’s another hour. This time, the line goes through the higher stories. Then snakes around and goes past the doorway to the mayor’s office.

Mayor Newsom is not in today. And will be having trouble getting into his office on Tuesday because of the absolute barricade of letters and flowers and folded up notes and stuffed animals and City Hall maps with black marked “THANK YOU!”s that have been piled up against it.

We make it to the marriage records office.

I take a picture of my now husband standing in front of a case of the marriage records for 1902-1912. Numerous kids are curled up in corners sleeping. My own memory is spotty. I just know we got the papers, and then we’re done with lines. We get out, we head to the front entrance, and we walk out onto the City Hall steps.

It's almost 3PM.

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There are cheers, there’s rice thrown at us, there are hundreds of people celebrating us with unconditional love and joy and I had never before felt the goodness that exists in humanity to such an extent. It’s no longer raining, just a light sprinkle, but there are still no protestors. There’s barely even any news vans.

We make our way through the gauntlet, we get hands shaked, people with signs reading ”Congratulations!” jump up and down for us. We hit the sidewalks, and we begin to limp our way back to the BART station.

I’m at the BART station, we’re waiting for our train back south, and I’m sitting on the ground leaning against a pillar and in danger of falling asleep when a nondescript young man stops in front of me and shuffles his feet nervously. “Hey. I just- I saw you guys, down at City Hall, and I just… I’m so happy for you. I’m so proud of what you could do. I’m- I’m just really glad, glad you could get to do this.”

He shakes my hand, clasps it with both of his and shakes it. I thank him and he smiles and then hurries away as fast as he can without running.

Our train arrives and the trip south passes in a semilucid blur.

We get back to our car and climb in.

It’s 4:30 and we are starving.

There’s a Carls Jr near the station that we stop off at and have our first official meal as a married couple. We sit by the window and watch people walking past and pick out others who are returning from San Francisco. We're all easy to pick out, what with the combination of giddiness and water damage.

We get home about 6-7. We take the dog out for a good long walk after being left alone for two days in a row. We shower. We bundle ourselves up. We bury ourselves in blankets and curl up and just sort of sit adrift in the surrealness of what we’d just done.

We wake up the next day, Tuesday, to read that the California State Supreme Court has rejected the petition to shut down the San Francisco weddings because the paperwork had a misplaced comma that made the meaning of one phrase unclear.

The State Supreme Court would proceed to play similar bureaucratic tricks to drag the process out for nearly a full month before they have nothing left and finally shut down Mayor Newsom’s marriages.

My parents had been out of state at the time at a convention. They were flying into SFO about the same moment we were walking out of City Hall. I apologized to them later for not waiting and my mom all but shook me by the shoulders. “No! No one knew that they’d go on for so long! You did what you needed to do! I’ll just be there for the next one!”

00000

It was just a piece of paper. Legally, it didn’t even hold any weight thirty days later. My philosophy at the time was “marriage really isn’t that important, aside from the legal benefits. It’s just confirming what you already have.”

But maybe it’s just societal weight, or ingrained culture, or something, but it was different after. The way I described it at the time, and I’ve never really come up with a better metaphor is, “It’s like we were both holding onto each other in the middle of the ocean in the middle of a storm. We were keeping each other above water, we were each other’s support. But then we got this piece of paper. And it was like the ground rose up to meet our feet. We were still in an ocean, still in the middle of a storm, but there was a solid foundation beneath our feet. We still supported each other, but there was this other thing that was also keeping our heads above the water.

It was different. It was better. It made things more solid and real.

I am forever grateful for all the forces and all the people who came together to make it possible. It’s been twenty years and we’re still together and still married.

We did a domestic partnership a year later to get the legal paperwork. We’d done a private ceremony with proper rings (not just ones grabbed out of the husband’s collection hours before) before then. And in 2008, we did a legal marriage again.

Rushed. In a hurry. Because there was Proposition 13 to be voted on which would make them all illegal again if it passed.

It did, but we were already married at that point, and they couldn’t negate it that time.

Another few years after that, the Supreme Court finally threw up their hands and said "Fine! It's been legal in places and nothing's caught on fire or been devoured by locusts. It's legal everywhere. Shut up about it!"

And that was that.

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When I was in highschool, in the late 90s, I didn’t expect to see legal gay marriage until I was in my 50s. I just couldn’t see how the American public as it was would ever be okay with it.

I never expected to be getting married within five years. I never expected it to be legal nationwide before I’d barely started by 30s. I never thought I’d be in my 40s and it’d be such a non-issue that the conservative rabble rousers would’ve had to move onto other wedge issues altogether.

I never thought that I could introduce another man as my husband and absolutely no one involved would so much as blink.

I never thought I’d live in this world.

And it’s twenty years later today. I wonder how our line buddies are doing. Those babies who were running around the wide open rooms playing tag will have graduated college by now. The kids whose parents the one line-buddy was worried would see him are probably married too now. Some of them to others of the same gender.

I don’t have some greater message to make with all this. Other then, culture can shift suddenly in ways you can’t predict. For good or ill. Mainly this is just me remembering the craziest fucking 36 hours of my life twenty years after the fact and sharing them with all of you.

The future we’re resigned to doesn’t have to be the one we live in. Society can shift faster than you think. The unimaginable of twenty years ago is the baseline reality of today.

And always remember that the people who want to get married will show up by the thousands in rain that none of those who’re against it will brave.