Sunday, March 8, 2009

I'll love your potluck tomorrow

I'll miss the "L Word." It isn't that I know anyone who wears $300 bras, or looks like Jennifer Beals, or that any of the characters set terribly good examples. It's that otherwise, TV and movies have a serious dearth of lesbian relationships and sex. It just feels a little lonely to totally lack a reflection anymore.

There is an odd balance between a nod to a culture, to tradition, and to finding our own way. This weekend I went to a lesbian wedding. They got married in a church and wore white dresses. I, who desperately need lessons in wearing heels and what to do with a scarf, tried to help one of the brides figure out how to hold her flowers and walk and look a little less like a large tube of satin took her by surprise. I was the one eyed dyke in the land of the blind! Their mom/dads gave them away and they had a hotel reception and a first dance and everything. Of course, the first dance was, I think an unwitting nod, to lesbian drama, being "Will you still love me tomorrow?" I thought, "If you're wondering that, should we really be here, eating reception chicken?"

Far be it from me to deny any girl her white wedding, and I support any dyke who wants to have one wholeheartedly. It just isn't for me. I figure, if I'm far enough from tradition to do away with the fucking groom, what am I going to bust out a white wedding dress and a diamond for? Here's the plan. If my girl and I ever have a ceremony, I think we should go with evites and a potluck. Now, that's lesbian - a potluck! Lots of tofu and girls in pants! Maybe an herbal tea bar. Titanium rings of course, which I won't fuck up working on my truck and she won't fuck up trimming the hedges. We get flowers from the farmer's market and go camping for the honeymoon. Now that sounds like my kind of wedding.

But maybe the point is that we get to create our own traditions, or not. On the cutting edge of civil rights and politics, we get to decide what to take and what to keep on our own, at least so long as our churches and legislators will let us. What ultimately matters is that every day, I can look at girlfriend bandit, and say "Yes, I will love you tomorrow."


Anne O'Nymous said...

"What ultimately matters is that every day, I can look at girlfriend bandit, and say 'Yes, I will love you tomorrow.'"

Whoo-hoo! No reception chicken for me!

I just read sections of this blog entry aloud to a recently married (girl-boy) coworker, and we giggled like hell.

Recovering Grady Addict said...

My first "wedding" my Hottie wore black leather pants and a black button up collared shirt with dark red flame appliques around the bottom. (think rock-a-billy upright base player with hair greased back). I wore a dark reddish burgundy dress with a plunged back and sash draped across the shoulders. Our vows were exchanged IN the family beachhouse at North Litchfield SC, as planned beachfront ceremony was scrapped for an incoming storm. Our reception was at Hard Rock Cafe in Myrtle Beach. That night we made love on the roof-top deck.

It's all about what you make of it. Do whatcha like!!!