date night
Wednesday afternoon I received the strangest text message from the BF telling me to be in the city, dressed nice (button down shirt and slacks) and on the corner of Church and Market. I texted back wondering what was going on, but he was silent about it. “just be there” was the response I received.
The rest of the afternoon was unusual for me. Was he going to take me to a nice fancy meal at a fancy restaurant? Was he going to pimp me out to someone that liked slightly doughy, pasty white guys in button down shirts and dress slacks? Was he going to propose to me?
I settled on the latter and was convinced I would be a blushing fiancé by the end of the evening and proceeded to contemplate my upcoming married life. Would I say, “Yes”? Would he get down on one knee? Would he slip a ring into my wine? Not sure what to expect or even how I felt about the whole thing… I decided that my answer would be a resounding “No”. I would be steadfast in my denial of his requests. “You haven’t earned it yet,” I’d declare, while feigning sorrow, like a mid-century Hollywood starlet.
I would eventually give in and we would hug, perhaps kiss and definitely fuck once we returned home. The morning after we would talk about it, make plans, set a date, only to realize that thanks to the hateful, bigots in the small towns of California, and the huge amounts of money flooded into the state by religious organizations that preach love but act on hate, we could not be married and would have to settle for that second class status of “domestic partnership”. We’d make the appointments with the lawyers and draw up all the paperwork needed to protect each other should something happen. You know, all those things that come simply by saying “I do” and signing the civil marriage certificate denied to us.
My head was reeling at all of these thoughts and I was about to slip into the post prop 8 depression again, looking around the office wondering who voted yes and who voted no and how their beliefs have affected my life and the life of the man that I love.
As it turns out… he had tickets to Wicked. Wonderful tickets to Wicked. Row J, center tickets to Wicked. I’d never thought that I would ever see that musical. When I lived in Chicago, Tom teased me about seeing it but he and I never settled on a date to commit. In 5 years, we never found a date that fit. Fast forward to last spring, when the BF had tickets. Good tickets. We were supposed to go. I was excited, but didn’t show it since I was afraid of jinxing it. Well… it so happened that those tickets were for a date about 2 months after he and I broke things off, for a variety of reasons.
I was convinced that Wicked was one of those things that I would never experience, like visiting Abu Dhabi, climbing Mt Kilimanjaro, or heterosexual intercourse.
So yes, I was surprised. I was swept away by his sweetness and I thoroughly enjoyed the production. It was a wonderful date night and an unexpected date night. And it was totally worth it to be dead tired the next day.
