an emotional union

On Saturday, I found myself bawling — bawling — at a wedding.

What was particularly ridiculous about this was that I had only met the groom (well, one of the grooms) once.  He was A.’s boss when A. was in Afghanistan. And so there I was, sitting in the Carnegie Institution for Science in Dupont Circle, craning my neck to see the ceremony. The chairs were set up in a circle, and the grooms were in the center of the circle, under the high ceiling, beaming at each other and holding each others’ hands as they read their hand-written vows. And groom H. told groom B. how he loved waking up to B. every morning and falling asleep next to him every night and how B. was his best friend and life partner and he was so in love.

It was a beautiful speech and I was thinking about how I felt the same way about A. (that got the tears rolling) and then how unfair it is that not everyone can marry the person they love (but how great it was that we got to witness it in D.C., where gay marriage is now legal.)

And so I was the crazy woman choking back a sob at a wedding where I barely knew anyone. A. whispered to me to let it out, but I was stifling the overflowing tears cause I mean, Come on, how cliche is it that the pregnant woman can’t contain her emotions.

The rest of the evening was a riot — we laughed with our new friend Fay who lives in Monmouth County, N.J., with her parents not far from where A. grew up. We ate a delicious meal of couscous (A. said it was the best thing he’s ever eaten), asparagus, mashed potatoes and salmon followed by tiny red velvet cupcakes and key lime pie (mmmmm). I danced a few songs while A. watched (one guy told me I could freak out all of the gay men by pretending I was in labor — we joked I should throw a glass of water on the floor and start moaning — but I didn’t). And then, at 10 p.m., A. and I walked hand-in-hand out into the warm October evening, down the grand steps and four blocks home, our hearts warmed by such a joyous event.


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