Perhaps it was the late hour. Or the fact that at 3am, I was wrapping up a viewing of Todd Solondz’s Palindromes. But after the credits started rolling, I clicked over to election results, because I needed a hearty chuckle. And boy did I ever get one! After watching a Solondzian heroine get the emotional tar get beaten out of her, it’s hard to consider bleaker realities. Really, if large majorities are continuing to insist on their right to determine the happiness of a minority, the rest of us need to dream up ideal comeuppance. And with all of our usual high-profile heroes missing in action when we need them to make it rain glitter in Bangor, it’s high time to finesse our approach. And scale back our expectations. I’m not asking that gay marriage advocates throw their hands up in the air and give up. We live in the age of Gaga, so that’s not an option. I’m suggesting they just follow the strategies of smart parents everywhere: If you two can’t learn to share your Pokémon cards, neither of you get to play with them. It’s that simple!
Only in lieu of actual Pokémon cards, just imagine marriage. Until people sort out their fuss with gay marriage and how same-sex couples tying the knot threaten the realities of their family lives (is no one else watching Modern Family and secretly surprised by its straight-gay domestic brilliance?), perhaps they should be lobbying for everyone everywhere to have their right to matrimony revoked. We’ll file it under “precautionary measures.” Because clearly if someone fails to grasp the blandly egalitarian nature of humans, the last thing they should be doing is settling down with someone else in order to spawn more human life. Obviously, those otherwise thwarted wedding festivities would’ve gone a long way towards perking up the economy. So in this sense, some could argue that the proposal’s proponents are being totally un-American. And they wouldn’t be too far from the truth.
Last November, on the eve of the Obama-McCain election, I had a conversation with a high school friend that awkwardly broached this subject. These encounters with old acquaintances are invariably laced with some measure of horror. This is why you valiantly try to keep the discourse light and fluffy. But you consent to the reunions to see where the rest of the world stands. Because New York, as much as we’d love it to be, isn’t the entire world. The outcome of our palaver left me mortified. My friend turned to me and she said, “You know, on one hand I want you to be happy. But on the other, my faith tells me the exact opposite is the right thing. So … I just don’t know!” I resisted a Regina George-sized freakout and instead smiled, nodded politely.
Then I realized that my friend’s logic may be the same kind that pervaded most of the electorate during the Prop. 8 hysteria in California and again during last night’s repeal in Maine. No one really knows what they’re voting against. They’re just voting against “the other.” These people aren’t being malicious. They just don’t know any better. And the least we can do, as gay marriage advocates, is take them to the nearest bar and get them plastered enough until they realize just how stupidly unreasonable they’ve been all along.