I had to make this woman my wife, and I almost lost her. Then Florida found us

http://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2015/jan/07/woman-wife-florida-same-sex-marriage-legal

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When I opened the bathroom door, the first thing I saw were Julie’s pale, artfully crossed ankles, bobbing in the water. She was facedown in the tub and her long, blond hair was floating on the surface, spreading out around her head like a golden halo. Two bubbles rose to the top. Then one. Then none.

All I could do was imagine how my life was over if the woman I loved was gone.

A half-hour earlier, she had announced that she wanted to soak her aching muscles in an Epsom salt bath. So I had decided to bring her tea – ginger and turmeric do wonders for inflammation. When she hadn’t respond to my knocking, I had burst in, calling her name, and discovered her seemingly lifeless body.

With one hand, I slammed the mug onto the toilet seat and, with the other, I grabbed her shoulder and yanked her torso up out of the water.

Julie gasped for air and yelled, “You crazy person, what the hell are you doing?”

“What in the world were you doing?” My chest hurt and I began to sob.

“Epsom salt is good for the pores. It’s part of my secret beauty regimen.” She pulled me in close, soaking my shirt with her bathwater. “I’m so sorry I scared you.”

That’s when I really knew: I had to marry this woman. I couldn’t live without her being my wife and, screw what our state laws said, I wouldn’t. Domestic partnership wasn’t enough – and it never should’ve been, not for two people who love each other, not in any state.

Two months later – as of Tuesday – we can finally legally wed in Florida, the nation’s third-largest state and the one where we live. As a native New Yorker who’s lived warily in the south for five years, I honestly never thought I’d see the day that I would be entitled to marriage equality in the Sunshine State. Julie and I can finally turn our dreams of a vegan, hippie, cat-filled lesbian wedding into a legal reality.

All because, last August, US judge Robert Hinkle ruled that Florida’s 2008 voter-mandated law banning gay marriage was unconstitutional, paving the way for same sex marriage in Florida, despite the best efforts of the state’s twice-divorced, thrice-married Republican attorney general, Pam Bondi. Her attempts to extend Judge Hinkle’s initial stay on his order to grant us equal rights were denied, first by the Eleventh Circuit Court of Appeals and then by the US Supreme Court.

Last summer, just before he issued his ruling, Julie and I got domestically partnered. It only afforded us six extra legal protections – half of which pertained to children, which we don’t have and never will – but damn it, we wanted what meagre protections our state deigned to offer our relationship. Julie had to leave for work halfway through filling out the paperwork – “No worries”, the clerk told us, we weren’t both required to be there anyway. It felt more like a business transaction than a milestone.

Still, as much as I want to marry her now, wedding bells didn’t always seem on our horizon, let alone mine. I’d never considered marrying at all before her, and never could have pictured allowing someone to be a permanent fixture in my life – let alone a hippie, vegan wedding with cats. When you grow into adulthood being told that you can never get married to anyone, ever because you’re gay, it’s difficult to even daydream about a long-term future with someone.

When we met, Julie was still recovering from a previous relationship; I worked long, strange hours at several jobs and drank more than I should have. We seemed to break up every other week. But we always found our way back to each other, and weeks with her turned into months and then into years. She became more than a girlfriend; she’s my best friend and confidante. I moved from several towns away from her to an apartment complex across the street from her neighborhood and finally, last year, into her home – now our home.

Our four cats are like any step-siblings who tolerate sharing space with each other (though I guess kids are less likely to pee on things when they’re annoyed). I know her lengthy list of food allergies better than her mother does. I can easily list her preference of Star Trek captains in order – Picard leads the pack, followed closely by Janeway.

We have been spouses in everything but name for months, and it’s been hard to bear knowing we might never have been allowed to become more, especially as we’ve watched our straight friends get engaged, get married and start families. Thinking about what other couples like us have had to endure to get to this moment, where we can finally legally marry, makes it even more special.

In the weeks after finding Julie in that bathtub, I began shopping for an engagement ring. She knows that it’s hidden somewhere in our home. She knows the proposal is coming. I dangle my plans to publicly propose in front of her, teasing her, letting her believe that it can happen at any time.

And now, thanks to Judge Hinkle, it can – and it will.