No union is more profound than marriage, for it embodies the highest ideals of love, fidelity, devotion, sacrifice, and family. In forming a marital union, two people become something greater than they once were. As some of the petitioners in these cases demonstrate, marriage embodies a love that may endure even past death. It would misunderstand these men and women to say they disrespect the idea of marriage. Their plea is that they do respect it, respect it so deeply that they seek to find its fulfillment for themselves. Their hope is not to be condemned to live in loneliness, excluded from one of civilization’s oldest institutions. They ask for equal dignity in the eyes of the law. The Constitution grants them that right.
The judgement of the Court of Appeals for the Sixth Circuit is reversed.
It is so ordered.
Tonight is a night for toasts.
A toast to the freedom to have a messy desk (it means things are happening there).
A toast to the freedom to drink wine every night.
And a toast to the freedom to eat cookies every night. Or the whole damn box in one sitting (update: I didn’t).
Here’s to sleeping soundly all through the night and keeping a clean house. Here’s to staying out all night or heading to bed at 9pm, spending all my money on a trip to the beach or adopting 5 dogs.
The point is, some people’s lives are changing tonight. And some people are settling down. And there are times I wish I was in their shoes. But then I step back, and re-evaluate. Their life is right for them. Not for me. I am where I am supposed to be, right in this moment. I feel like I’m finally coming into my own, emerging as the person I’m supposed to be. And I’ve had a realization.
I am someone who is looking for love. Real love. Ridiculous, inconvenient, consuming, can’t live without each other love. I thought I found it once, but turns out it wasn’t real at all. I’ve finally arrived here, and love is finally what I’m looking for. I love my family. I love my job. I love my dog and cats. But I’m done saying that love isn’t for me. It is. I’m ready.
Here’s to being free to do what you want to, and be who you want to be.
July 15, 2013, 5:45pm. I was lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, waiting for mom to arrive bearing gifts of Sprite and dinner. Later, Sarah would arrive with hard cider and coconut pie. My newly single life had begun.
Everyone says the first day is the hardest. I disagree. What sucks are all the subsequent days, when you read something you wish you could tell him or have a bad day and wish there was someone waiting at home to drive down to Majestic Diner with. You miss the company, the history, the comfort.
I watched all seven seasons of Desperate Housewives in a week and a half. I took cold medicine nightly, so I wouldn’t lie in bed and think of how sad I was, and wonder where he was at that particular moment. A lot of wine was consumed. Lots of cookies.
The sharp newness turned to a dull listlessness – empty, waiting, remembering. August brought my new apartment but then a sharp goodbye to our old apartment, where he left most of his/our belongings to die a sad, lonely death. It didn’t seem right. My hopes were raised in September, then dashed again two months later. Christmas didn’t feel like Christmas, and the bleakness coupled with a nasty case of bronchitis made the holidays less than holly jolly. I saw 2014 in with the resolution that by December, I’d be me again. I’d be whole. February brought the official news that things were truly over, forever, and I made my way to therapy, once a week, because that feeling wasn’t one that had been covered in any book I’d read.
By May, I was feeling that light at the end of the tunnel that everyone talks about. I was dating again, I’d come to terms with everything that the relationship between Ry and I wasn’t. I was moving on, accepting, and I could feel it.
And here we are, July 15, 2014. It’s funny how time can feel so slow until you forget to count the seconds as they pass. I am healed. I am well. My life is heading towards the place I’ve always wanted it to be.
I still feel sad sometimes. My therapist says I’ll always be a little sensitive in spots, so it doesn’t bother me too much when something pinches. And I figure if I have to reach back to feel that devastation I felt last year then I’m doing ok.
I have a bucket list of summer and fall things to do, things I never would have done if I was still in a relationship. I’ve checked off a huge chunk, but I panicked the other day – the summer is passing so fast, and I feel like I’m running out of time. And then I realized: this isn’t an ending. There is no deadline. I have countless summers ahead, with all the time in the world left to start again. And it may not be the life I had planned for myself for so many years. But unthinkably good things can happen, even late in the game. You just have to have faith.
I finally do.
I realize that successful blogs have to have a purpose, a theme, a united front that every post relates back to.
This isn’t one of those posts. Sorry.
I do hear, however, that lists are in. The Top 10 Disney Songs! 11 Ways You’re Doing Your Hair Wrong! 50 Ways to Leave Your Lover!
…wait. Scratch that last one, it’s taken.
So, ladies and gentlemen, in spirit of the top 5 numbered lists, I give you The Top 5 Songs That Have Been Stuck in My Head Lately.
Passion Pit – Take a Walk
I have a thing for songs with solid beats and minor chords in the background. Solid lyrics never hurt either.
Vampire Weekend – Unbelievers
I also have a thing for sweet, simple, catchy songs. Dance Music, anyone?
Arctic Monkeys – Do I Wanna Know?
I love me some dirty guitar riffs. Has a taste of Black Keys…you know, before they started sucking.
Bastille – Bad Blood
Honestly, I have no idea why I like this. I’m not sure if I actually do. But it keeps popping up, so there you go.
The Wood Brothers – The Muse
This song, by my amazing guitar teacher, carried me through my breakup and all the subsequent adventures that I’ve been on since then. Oliver is an amazing songwriter (not to mention an amazing human being), and I hope one day I can grow up to write songs that he does. It’s not looking likely, but a girl can dream, can’t she?
There you have it, folks…some insight into my brain. I’ve always been plagued with songs rumbling around in there, day and night, and so now you can join me.
What have you been listening to lately?
I watched Notting Hill last night. Normally, one of my favorite movies. The music, the dialogue, the classic lines, it all culminates into a pretty damn good movie.
I imagined if the situation was reversed. Girl get crush on famous guy. They go out to her sister’s house for dinner, but then, come to find out, he had a girlfriend all along. Then, he appears again, out of the blue, and they spend the entire day together. Boy gets upset at the press that’s gathered outside, says horrible things to the girl, and then leaves. A year goes by. Boy shows up AGAIN, with an expensive gift and an apology and a plea to give him another chance.
By this time, every female in the world is yelling at the screen. DON’T DO IT. HE’S AN ASSHOLE. YOU DESERVE BETTER. HE DID IT ONCE, HE’LL DO IT AGAIN.
But here we are instead, back to Hugh Grant pining over Julia Roberts and then the music swells and cameras flash and they live happily ever after.
What a crock of shit.
Another example? Sex and the City. Now, anyone who knows me knows my eternal devotion to this show. However, the older I get the more peeved I get at Mr. Big. He was a horrible, narcissistic asshole who only called Carrie when he was bored. He never loved her. He never felt the same connection with her as she imagined she felt with him. Yet, here we are, cheering them on because he went to “rescue” her from The Russian in Paris. And then he leaves her at the altar…and we still cheer them on.
What is wrong with us? Why do we celebrate men doing things that we would crucify our fellow women for? Why do we put up with ridiculous behavior in a movie when we all know things would be different in real life?
We’re teaching our girls (and ourselves, honestly) that lovely double standard that has been perpetuated since the dawn of time. I’m getting sick of it. Life doesn’t happen like the movies, honey, and expecting it to shows me that you’re sadly separated from reality.
I wish real life was like the movies. I wish a Hugh Grant or a Mr. Big would come and sweep me off my feet and pine over me and love me forever. I’d love to sit around and wait for a man, wait for him to rescue me or call me or tell me he loves me and make my life complete. But that’s not real. And I’d rather be alone forever than subscribe to a fairy tale that will only hurt me in the end.