I'm STILL trying to get a copy of my social security card
What I’ve been doing lately is making lists. I’m working off one right now titled Stuff to Do Before You Get Married. The first item on this list is shoes (this lets you know what my priorities are). Five or six items down it says Dress, with a line drawn through the word ‘cause I got the dress and can therefore check it off the list (other words with lines drawn through include Something Blue, Something New, Photographer and Liquor). Some words have little asterisks next to them to denote things that may take some time to accomplish so I should get them taken care of ASAP. For example, Rings. Spa appointment. Christopher’s Suit (he’s very tall and needs to special-order pants). Marriage license.
I figured getting a marriage license would take a while, what with this being Cook County so anything red-tape related usually takes several months and much stress and money and long, long lines. We’ll need background checks. And then, of course, they’ll have to look at our medical records. Didn’t they do that back in the day—blood tests? And then, we’ll have to sit down with some sort of counselor, right? To show that we really are in love and understand the overwhelming responsibility of marriage? I know I’d have to do that if I was getting married in a church (which I’m not) or if neither Christopher nor I was an American citizen, so I assumed since the government feels so strongly about respecting marriage as an institution—about how it’s the cornerstone of our society and needs to be protected from anything that may soil its traditions and, consequently, the values of our nation—that they’d be sure that anyone they were licensing to marry would treat marriage with equal reverence.
Imagine my surprise when we went down to the City Clerk’s office last week to get the ball rolling.
You take an escalator downstairs past the Vital Statistics office. At the foot of the escalator is a guy with a Polaroid camera and an internet certificate from the Church of Whatever that proves him ordained to officiate a marriage ceremony. For a few bucks he’ll take your picture, a few more and he’ll marry you, on the spot. Christopher and I walked into an office with three or four other couples (one male, one female in each, of course). We showed ID. We filled out a form. We paid thirty dollars and were given a slip of paper, which will be filled out by the person who officiates our marriage ceremony and mailed back to City Hall.
Done.
Now, I’m all for less government. For fast-moving lines at City Offices. For minimal paperwork and little if any probing by the State into my personal life. But, I must admit, I’m a little uncomfortable that, in the eyes of the law, it takes more work for me to get my car out of the DMV that it does for me to get married.
It’s harder to get a copy of my social security card. A mail-in-rebate off the new palm pilot.
The cop who pulled me over last week for speeding did a more thorough background check on me than the government official issuing me a marriage license.
The thing is, I’m in AWE of marriage. I’m excited for and humbled by and in awe of what Christopher and I are about to do—here’s two people all wild about each other making a promise to take on this crazy world together as a team. To share all the ups and downs of it all and work our hardest to face all the things that scare the hell out of us, that—THAT—is profoundly awesome. The government’s involvement in all this is, of course, pretty low on my totem poll of What Marriage Means to Me. But with all the rhetoric that’s being thrown around lately—Marriage this, marriage that, respect it, tradition, tradition—I just figured there’d be a little … more.
Let’s be honest: a LOT fucking more.
On the way out, one of the couples who’d been standing in line before us was getting married by the Polaroid camera guy. They looked really happy, hugging and laughing at the base of that escalator, but still, I wondered: what was their story? How long had they known each other? The possibilities were, of course, endless—maybe they really are in love and have been together for a while and are honestly committed to making this thing work, or, maybe they met the night before, drunk at some bar and thought, Hey, What the Hell. Whatever their reason, the State certainly didn’t care about it.
For the record, I’m all for getting ordained on the internet. Christopher and I asked a good friend of ours to perform our marriage ceremony—someone who is married himself and who we’ve both learned a great deal from about love and commitment and honesty and respect. I feel lucky indeed that he and his husband have given us such a powerful role model. Everyone should be so fortunate.