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Reproduced without permission from Details Jan/Feb 2004, volume 22, issue 4. pp.74-76.
Why Gay Men Definitely Shouldn't Get Married
Homosexuals see matrimony as the great equalizer. And they're right -- now everybody will be fat and miserable.
By Tony Hendra
Decent, tolerant Americans, the bast majority of the nation are in a very romantic mood right now -- the honey moon phase, if you like -- over the whole idea of gay marriage.
Countless Cinderellas are lifting the shapely feet of other Cinderellas to find that lo! the slipper fits. Countless Prince Charmings are preparing to mount their fine white steeds -- and other Prince Charmings.
And why should they not be so engaged? Let's face it: "Normal" marriage -- whatever that is -- is on its last legs. Men get along far better with men, and women with women. There's very little point to opposite genders living together, except for the highly overrated business of heterosexual sex, which, for 99 percent of married straights, is a five-to-ten-minute affair anyway, leaving the rest of the week (or month or year) a waking nightmare of underappeciation, and terminal fights over whose turn it is to change Julian. Gay couples planning marriage, like every other couple in history, believe that they, unlike every other couple in history, are actually going to make it work. Could they actually be right? Could gay marriage actually be purer, sweeter, more fun, more loving and lasting than the discredited millenia-long effort to get oil and water to live together? Could gays be ushering in an era when people really do live happily ever after?
When you consider how much less dysfunctionally certain hight-profile marriages might've been if they'd been gay, you can only say Go for it, guys and dolls, plight that troth. Had the House of Windsor embraced same-sex unions, not only would Brits be spared a long line of ever more cretinous offspring, but Far-From-Bonnie Prince Charlie wouldn't have been forced into marriage, free instead to cuddle up legally, if he wanted to, with his footman or mouth-man, or whatever he was -- of for that matter with Camilla, who, as all Palace insiders suspect, is a man anyway. (That whole want-to-be-reincarnated-as-her-tampon thing was just to throw off the tabloids.)
Full disclosure: I'm not gay. I'm married with kids. I have nothing but admiration for those who are fighting to do whatever they please with those they love, including marry them -- if for no other reason than it enrages, torments, and shoves it up the abundant fundaments of the vile cracker Christians who are trying to force their spittle-flecked morality on the rest of us.
But I do wonder what's going to happen when the honeymoon glow wears off. When gay couples discover -- like all other married couples since the dawn of legal humping -- that domestic bliss is, er.. elusice?... intermittent?...nonexistent?
The detritus of so many wrecked hetero-nuclear marriages lies like a devastated postwar wasteland before our starry-eyed gay brothers and sisters. Consider some of the prospects ahead in a world where gay marriage and divorce are as commonplace as liars in the Oval Office:
- Item: Gay marriage normalizes, bringing with it an inevitable consequence of all marriages -- the colossal up-sizing of one or both partners' waistline. Add a couple of kids and you have the standard 1,200-pound-all-American family -- except it's gay. Heather has two mommies -- the size of Shea Stadium.
- Item: Chelsea, West L.A., South Beach crammed with Auschwitz-thin chain-smoking Yorkie-in-the-handbag gay divorces d'un certain age, swilling Chardonnay while desperately competing for the very, very few well-heeled silver-haired stud muffins who might want to chaperone them through the golden portals of, um, maturity.
- Item: Gay marriage, currently a middle-to-upper-middle-class thing, trickles down society, creating trailer parks where 90 percent of the occupants are either blousy castoff lesbian wives in dirty pink muumuus watching tapes of Ellen or scrofulous castoff gay husbands who live off Bud and whatever they can lap up at the truck-stop glory hole.
- Item; In no time at all, the offspring of gay marriages start seeking their own life partners... Bringing the girl home to meet Dad and Dad: "How could you, Josh? After all we sacrificed for you -- you show up with a... a.. breeder!?!"
- Item: All the dire conflicts and consequences of marriage, of any marriage, find their way into a stream of Hollywood remakes: My Big Fat Gay Greek Wedding. The First Gay Wives Club. Thelmus and Louis. TV follows with a flood of gay sitcoms: All In The Gay Family, The Queen of Queens. Why stop there? Rewrite the whole vast canon of hetero courtship, marriage and misery -- Long Gay's Journey into Night, Romeo and Julio, Gay Pride and Prejudice...
With possibilities like this ahead, why would the freest spirits in our culture want to bind themselves up in a monogamous contract before God and country and dirty Uncle Jonathan who always liked to give the kids pony rides on his knee? Sure, it might seem like a good idea for now -- with all the gut-tingling thrills of pioneering terra incognita -- but take a word of advice from us straight ball-and-chainers: Marriage is no bed of Rosies.
Why Gay Men Definitely Shouldn't Get Married
Homosexuals see matrimony as the great equalizer. And they're right -- now everybody will be fat and miserable.
By Tony Hendra
Decent, tolerant Americans, the bast majority of the nation are in a very romantic mood right now -- the honey moon phase, if you like -- over the whole idea of gay marriage.
Countless Cinderellas are lifting the shapely feet of other Cinderellas to find that lo! the slipper fits. Countless Prince Charmings are preparing to mount their fine white steeds -- and other Prince Charmings.
And why should they not be so engaged? Let's face it: "Normal" marriage -- whatever that is -- is on its last legs. Men get along far better with men, and women with women. There's very little point to opposite genders living together, except for the highly overrated business of heterosexual sex, which, for 99 percent of married straights, is a five-to-ten-minute affair anyway, leaving the rest of the week (or month or year) a waking nightmare of underappeciation, and terminal fights over whose turn it is to change Julian. Gay couples planning marriage, like every other couple in history, believe that they, unlike every other couple in history, are actually going to make it work. Could they actually be right? Could gay marriage actually be purer, sweeter, more fun, more loving and lasting than the discredited millenia-long effort to get oil and water to live together? Could gays be ushering in an era when people really do live happily ever after?
When you consider how much less dysfunctionally certain hight-profile marriages might've been if they'd been gay, you can only say Go for it, guys and dolls, plight that troth. Had the House of Windsor embraced same-sex unions, not only would Brits be spared a long line of ever more cretinous offspring, but Far-From-Bonnie Prince Charlie wouldn't have been forced into marriage, free instead to cuddle up legally, if he wanted to, with his footman or mouth-man, or whatever he was -- of for that matter with Camilla, who, as all Palace insiders suspect, is a man anyway. (That whole want-to-be-reincarnated-as-her-tampon thing was just to throw off the tabloids.)
Full disclosure: I'm not gay. I'm married with kids. I have nothing but admiration for those who are fighting to do whatever they please with those they love, including marry them -- if for no other reason than it enrages, torments, and shoves it up the abundant fundaments of the vile cracker Christians who are trying to force their spittle-flecked morality on the rest of us.
But I do wonder what's going to happen when the honeymoon glow wears off. When gay couples discover -- like all other married couples since the dawn of legal humping -- that domestic bliss is, er.. elusice?... intermittent?...nonexistent?
The detritus of so many wrecked hetero-nuclear marriages lies like a devastated postwar wasteland before our starry-eyed gay brothers and sisters. Consider some of the prospects ahead in a world where gay marriage and divorce are as commonplace as liars in the Oval Office:
- Item: Gay marriage normalizes, bringing with it an inevitable consequence of all marriages -- the colossal up-sizing of one or both partners' waistline. Add a couple of kids and you have the standard 1,200-pound-all-American family -- except it's gay. Heather has two mommies -- the size of Shea Stadium.
- Item: Chelsea, West L.A., South Beach crammed with Auschwitz-thin chain-smoking Yorkie-in-the-handbag gay divorces d'un certain age, swilling Chardonnay while desperately competing for the very, very few well-heeled silver-haired stud muffins who might want to chaperone them through the golden portals of, um, maturity.
- Item: Gay marriage, currently a middle-to-upper-middle-class thing, trickles down society, creating trailer parks where 90 percent of the occupants are either blousy castoff lesbian wives in dirty pink muumuus watching tapes of Ellen or scrofulous castoff gay husbands who live off Bud and whatever they can lap up at the truck-stop glory hole.
- Item; In no time at all, the offspring of gay marriages start seeking their own life partners... Bringing the girl home to meet Dad and Dad: "How could you, Josh? After all we sacrificed for you -- you show up with a... a.. breeder!?!"
- Item: All the dire conflicts and consequences of marriage, of any marriage, find their way into a stream of Hollywood remakes: My Big Fat Gay Greek Wedding. The First Gay Wives Club. Thelmus and Louis. TV follows with a flood of gay sitcoms: All In The Gay Family, The Queen of Queens. Why stop there? Rewrite the whole vast canon of hetero courtship, marriage and misery -- Long Gay's Journey into Night, Romeo and Julio, Gay Pride and Prejudice...
With possibilities like this ahead, why would the freest spirits in our culture want to bind themselves up in a monogamous contract before God and country and dirty Uncle Jonathan who always liked to give the kids pony rides on his knee? Sure, it might seem like a good idea for now -- with all the gut-tingling thrills of pioneering terra incognita -- but take a word of advice from us straight ball-and-chainers: Marriage is no bed of Rosies.
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