Civil Partnerships
Having read Argey Bargey's posts about Civil Partnerships, I felt I really ought to add my four-penny worth.
When they were first announced I was overjoyed. Having gone through a blessing ceremony with a partner some 10 years ago (what a trailblazer, eh?), I saw it as a landmark in the fight for equality that a brave few have fought towards for decades. Also, I felt it would be an opportunity to educate so many heterosexuals that gay men and women can have meaningful, long term relationships when so many see us as just "rampant poofs!"
Then I went through the anger phase; anger at the straight, middle class, middle England press for continuing to refer to the partnerships as "gay marriages". This, I felt, was responsible for the furor that erupted amongst certain circles that we would all be defying God's wishes by dressing up in white frocks and committing blasphemous acts in Gods houses up and down the land!
Thanks to the first few partnerships being so tastefully executed by some beautiful couples, who were happy to give quite frank interviews about their many years of hiding and suffering unequal treatment, that all died down and I was relaxed about the whole thing again. Peace.
Now, frankly, I am fed up with it! Not with the press however, but with the endless stream of people who seem to have nothing better to talk about wherever they are! Don't get me wrong; I'm pleased for the people who are lucky enough to have a partner that they want to commit to and who wants them equally in return, but PLEASE keep the conversations to the right place at the right time!!
Fair enough, chatting about your plans in a nice bar, such as Rupert Street or The Yard, with your friends is all very fine and dandy.... but when I stand in a cruise club on a 'Bear & Cubs' night and hear soundbites like "Well, you know, we just can't decide on the flowers! He wants Calla lillies, cos they're his Mums favourite, but they'll always remind me of Diana's funeral now!", it makes me want to spit feathers!
In Comptons a few weeks ago, when the whole bar was single and nodding away, either to a potential shag or just to the beat of the music, one mary from Blackpool piped up with;
"Well of course he wants to dress formal, but I'd much rather wear casual, summat a bit funky!"
"How about a compromise? Tails for the ceremony and your fetish gear for the evening do!"
"Ooo, its such a lot of fussing about changing tho, in't it?"
The moment was ruined. I managed to supress a laugh, as did the majority of the assembled throng. Some didn't.
"Last orders please guys!"
When they were first announced I was overjoyed. Having gone through a blessing ceremony with a partner some 10 years ago (what a trailblazer, eh?), I saw it as a landmark in the fight for equality that a brave few have fought towards for decades. Also, I felt it would be an opportunity to educate so many heterosexuals that gay men and women can have meaningful, long term relationships when so many see us as just "rampant poofs!"
Then I went through the anger phase; anger at the straight, middle class, middle England press for continuing to refer to the partnerships as "gay marriages". This, I felt, was responsible for the furor that erupted amongst certain circles that we would all be defying God's wishes by dressing up in white frocks and committing blasphemous acts in Gods houses up and down the land!
Thanks to the first few partnerships being so tastefully executed by some beautiful couples, who were happy to give quite frank interviews about their many years of hiding and suffering unequal treatment, that all died down and I was relaxed about the whole thing again. Peace.
Now, frankly, I am fed up with it! Not with the press however, but with the endless stream of people who seem to have nothing better to talk about wherever they are! Don't get me wrong; I'm pleased for the people who are lucky enough to have a partner that they want to commit to and who wants them equally in return, but PLEASE keep the conversations to the right place at the right time!!
Fair enough, chatting about your plans in a nice bar, such as Rupert Street or The Yard, with your friends is all very fine and dandy.... but when I stand in a cruise club on a 'Bear & Cubs' night and hear soundbites like "Well, you know, we just can't decide on the flowers! He wants Calla lillies, cos they're his Mums favourite, but they'll always remind me of Diana's funeral now!", it makes me want to spit feathers!
In Comptons a few weeks ago, when the whole bar was single and nodding away, either to a potential shag or just to the beat of the music, one mary from Blackpool piped up with;
"Well of course he wants to dress formal, but I'd much rather wear casual, summat a bit funky!"
"How about a compromise? Tails for the ceremony and your fetish gear for the evening do!"
"Ooo, its such a lot of fussing about changing tho, in't it?"
The moment was ruined. I managed to supress a laugh, as did the majority of the assembled throng. Some didn't.
"Last orders please guys!"