Modern Kinship by David Khalaf Constantino Khalaf

Author:David Khalaf, Constantino Khalaf [David Khalaf, Constantino Khalaf]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Religion, Spirituality
ISBN: 9780664264611
Barnesnoble:
Goodreads: 41642954
Publisher: Westminster John Knox Press
Published: 2019-01-08T00:00:00+00:00

The Engagement “Ick” Emergency

I (David) wanted to be married—I just didn’t want to get married. I had grown accustomed to dating a man and was finally comfortable in my own skin, but the prospect of a same-sex wedding triggered all of my past insecurities like a floor full of sprung mousetraps. One of my first thoughts after accepting Constantino’s proposal was “How can I work this so that we get married but don’t actually have a ceremony?”

My faith in the sanctity of our relationship didn’t dispel the recurring “ick” factor that had become so deeply ingrained in my psyche. I struggled with how to cope with this feeling without consistently isolating and rejecting my would-be husband. I knew an important part of this was communicating my feelings. In moments when I have tried to hide the ick, Constantino still has picked up on it and interpreted it as rejection. When I was able to verbalize my repulsion, he was intuitive enough to give me space when I needed it or lean in to help me push through it.

It was a five-alarm ick emergency the week we got engaged. The first image that came to mind was a wedding cake topper—that plastic thing you put on top of a cake—with two grooms. I had seen some with grooms that looked like the “twinsies” I so feared, with matching tuxedos and plastic smiles painted on their soulless faces. They were silly and trivial, and yet somehow the thought of them triggered in me all of my unresolved unease with my own gay relationship.

When I got home from the wonderful weekend in which we got engaged, I went straight to the computer and googled images of gay wedding cakes. I’m a masochist that way. I imagined myself as that cake topper, a painted smile on my face, standing next to my twin, and it disturbed me. Also, I hate cake.

I finally told Constantino that although I was honored and excited to marry him, I couldn’t stand the idea of a wedding. I would do anything to avoid a ceremony—to escape aisles and altars and pastel-colored flower bouquets.

What Constantino pointed out to me was perhaps the most obvious and revolutionary idea during our engagement. When I described to him my nightmare vision of matching outfits and scented candles and Shania Twain’s “From This Moment” blasting as we marched down the aisle, he simply said, “But that’s not you. That’s not us.” And it was true. Even if I were marrying a woman, I wouldn’t want white rose centerpieces and a string quartet. I wouldn’t want perfumed invitations or spring color schemes (not when I’m clearly an autumn). I would feel uncomfortable with those ceremonial aesthetics regardless of the person standing next to me at the altar.

So when I felt icky looking at photos of other gay -weddings—whether it was grooms with matching rainbow suspenders or napkins monogrammed Mr. & Mr.—I reminded myself that that’s not me. It was someone else’s style and someone else’s vision of romance, and it was all perfectly wonderful.

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