ring, what ring?

Today I had to fire the ring designer. I'm bummed. B would have loved that ring. And I really liked the jewelry artist.

But the designer had a kiln mis-heating incident, a sudden trip to Europe for a family emergency, and a load of other excuses. It's been a month and a half since we finalized the design. And still nothing to show for it.

Here's what I commissioned: A miniature piece of artwork, reflecting the colors of our eyes together, in a sustainable white gold band that looked like bamboo shoots folding around the delicate centerpiece.

Here's what I proposed with: A tendril of a passion fruit vine, taken from our balcony in the Mexican tropical jungle, which I wound into a delicate ring for my love.

Now I'm off in search of ring #3. I want her to love it. And I'll probably get one to match this time, which sounds more romantic to me.

Vendor #1

C and I both just started new jobs so nuptial planning fell off the map this week. But as we were on our Wednesday night date -- Weds night is a good breaking point in the week -- I think we nailed down our first vendor.

Tonnie's Minis (who apparently isn't just cupcakes anymore).

Tonnie (pronounced Tony even though I have said Tahn-ee for the last year) makes the most delicious little cake delights you have ever tasted.

Compared to a cupcake stronghold like Magnolia - with the mega lines and they file you through without a "thanks for coming" - Tonnie's Minis takes the cake.

In terms of location, Tonnie's Minis shares practically a closet with the Philly Cheese Steak guy. It is the oddest of pairings. But the little bites are an absolute party in your mouth.

I ate the butter cream vanilla cupcake. C got the red velvetty goodness one.

I asked Tonnie if he would be interested in making wedding cupcakes for us and he said he just registered with the Knot and has made one successful cupcake tier and has three orders in for more.

So we think we're gonna go for it.

Peeps are in for a treat.

Asking the folks

Like B, I tend to shy away from traditions. Yet I want to marry B, and I wanted to make the proposal special. I didn't even know who would end up asking first (we both wanted to ask, so it was sort of a race to pop the question.) One thing I was sure of though, was that I wanted to honor her wishes about the pre-proposal process: She wanted her dad's blessing.

About a year into our relationship, B had mentioned that she always dreamed of someone asking her dad's permission before proposing to her. One problem: B's dad hates lesbians. Or so I thought, based on previous conversations with him. It took me about six months to work up the nerve to ask her dad to approve our union. I was pretty sure he'd say no.

I prepared for the conversation like a true MBA. I drafted two full pages of potential responses to any questions/objections he may have. I did a full-on Audience Readiness Assessment to tailor my Key Message in a way that would get him to take the Recommended Followup Action. (Readiness level: hostile to my request. Key message: Your daughter, who we both love, wants you to approve our marriage. Followup Action: Say "Yes, I think it would be a fabulous idea for my daughter to formally commit to a lifetime with the woman of her dreams.")

I had a plan. Now all I needed was to grow some balls and talk to the firey father of my girlfriend. It took a week of peptalks from friends, including my own pflag Dad. (*PFLAG: a lovely gay-friendly organization called Parents & Friends of Lesbians And Gays. My dad's not a member, but he might as well be their poster boy given how supportive he is of me & B.) Dad said I could even use his line from when he asked my grandfather for permission to marry my Mom... Grandpa had asked Dad "What will you do if I say no?" and Dad responded "Well, I'll marry her anyway, but it would be nicer to have your blessing." Grandpa of course said yes to that. I added it to the appendix of my speech.

Finally, two days before B & I were to hop on the plane to Mexico (my preferred country of proposal), I opened my cell phone and dialed. Answering Machine. You can't pitch this kind of an idea to a machine, so I hung up. After stalking the potential in-laws' phoneline for a day, I eventually got through to B's mom. She was shocked that I was calling, asking if B was okay. I'm sure she had visions of her daughter wounded in a subway station at that very moment.

I assured her that all was well, and launched into my prepared remarks but it came out like nervous rambling. After 2 minutes, I got to the punchline and braced myself for the worst.

B's mom responded with a perky "Oh, sure!"

Me: "What? That was easy." (Internal monologue: "Dumbass, don't say that was easy.")

B's mom: "Well, yous twos were heading in that direction anyway. We think it's great. We're very happy for the both of you."

We chatted about everything under the sun for another 10 minutes, and I hung up the phone without asking to speak with B's father. Her mom had said "We" so I figure that counts.

Two weeks later, after Brenda had accepted the proposal with a joyous "Hells yeah!", I saw B's dad at a family party. He told me how happy he was for us. And he warned that we better keep making each other smile. He didn't exactly state what the "or else" part of that threat would be, and I don't plan on finding out.

So, I get to keep B in my life as long as we make each other happy. Do I like this deal? Sure!

DP or Not DP?

Last Friday was like any other day off -- bike ride, morning coffee, to-do lists, straightening up.

C was home too which was a bonus.

Now that we are engaged -- and homeowners together which has catapulted us into serious adultdom -- C and I decided to 'get hitched' at City Hall. We figured we had sung the song City Hall enough and besides it was more like paperwork because it doesn't really change anything for us as lesbians. But getting a glimpse into the "sanctity of marriage" revealed some very interesting things to me.

#1 no gay person in their right mind would want to get married in a place like that. The NYC City Clerk office has seen better days (or has it?) - the walls were yellowed, signs hung askew, fluorescent lights made everyone look pasty, there was what looked like bulletproof glass at the clerk windows, lines were demarcated to file us along like cattle. The municipal staff were less than amused and could not wait to get the eff out of there. I actually thought to myself this is the closest I would come to going to jail.

#2 so what's the big deal if 4 percent of New Yorkers get tax breaks? I mean that is the real main benefit of getting married. Just as an example, most employer health care plans -- IF they offer domestic partner benefits -- double tax lesbian and gay couples on the monthly payments, when married hetero couples enjoy these benefits tax free. If I were to go on C's benefits -- C would not be able to apply tax free money towards the health care fees -- it would be drawn from her after tax salaried money. So that is the 1st tax. Since her paying my healthcare is considered a gift to me - I then have to pay taxes to RECEIVE the health care benefit payments from C. That is the second tax. That is bullSH*T and not fair.

#3 getting married - or committed - means I will never be with anyone else. Ok yeah this was not really a surprise. My friend told me recently that her brother was supposed to get married a few months ago and he became physically sick (he like broke down) before the wedding and could not go through with it. Months later -- and now a dad -- he went through with it. I think about that and can only say that I do not feel more sure about a person in my life. C is the absolute one for me. Full stop.

So we had ridden our bikes over the Brooklyn Bridge and brought our $36 (registering for a DP is a dollar more than a marriage license - uh, why is this?). We were ready. A female City employee worked her way down the line and asked us why we were there. She pulled us off the line, got us our form and told us we needed a money order - NO CASH. With the clock ticking towards 3:45 (closing time) I hightailed it to the local Duane Reade to get the money order. When I get there, the woman is on her lunch break -- pressed for time I ask "who takes lunch at 3:30? Isn't that more like dinner?" I ran to Western Union and patiently waited as the two people in front of me bought metro cards -- can't you get that in the subway?? I got more pressing matters here.

With the money order in hand, I ran in my flip flops three city blocks back to the City building, through security and up to the 5th floor like I was in the Bourne Ultimatum

I returned to find C had drawn a bridal bouquet of flowers on a sheet of paper. We held the flowers together and giggled as we waited on our second line. After our form was in and all the info was double checked and correct, we were told to wait on the cashier line and upon payment our DP would be in effect.

Now -- as official DPs -- we left the building ready to check off the next item on our to-do list -- celebrate!

On Bended Knee

I am not really a traditional person.

I appreciate traditions just as much as the next person -- for example The Voladores de Papantla -- can you believe this amazing daredevil tradition set to the music of a pan flute?? But mostly, I have sought out experiences adrift of the mainstream. And that's what I will get with planning a lesbian wedding.

I didn't seek out being a lesbian - it sought me out. Once I came to terms that being gay was a part of my identity I fully embraced it and nearly ten years after coming out - met the most perfect woman for me - C.


Not unlike the Mexican Flyers, C is herself a daredevil - performing "high stakes yoga" in her trapeze classes. She takes risks -- calculated ones. She took a risk going for her MBA and leaving a life of freelance art and production. She is always striving to improve and better her life - she does her creative thinker exercises and Kakuro puzzles and we come up with new product ideas together -- and I guess I am a part of the life improvement plan because she wants to marry me.

C and I just celebrated two years together. We went to Puerto Vallarta Mexico and stayed at a B&B called Arco Iris. The B&B is run by Tom and Ran, expats from the southeastern US who have been together for 24 years! Tom made the most amazingly elaborate breakfasts and Ran made us laugh with his quips ("those people must be walking there because they want to die") and t-shirt slogans ("Not wearing underwear" "My Monkey Made me do it" and some Bubble Gum t-shirt making reference to blowing).

Arco Iris was to be the sight of our proposal.

When you are in a lesbian relationship sometimes roles are not really clear. C and I are pretty fluid though -- we skirt back and forth and sometimes I wear the skirt. But when it comes to getting hitched -- who was going to ask and when? Do I buy a diamond engagement ring? Wait -- she hates diamonds (I learned what the 4 Cs were anyway). Maybe she would want a necklace instead? Doesn't matter now -- C beat me to the punch.

The day C asked me to marry her was not really typical. We went on a canopy tour -- you know the kind -- ziplines, waterfall rapelling, water waist high, lots of bugs, dirt under the nails. Earlier in the day we were held up for two hours as a gas tanker was being pulled out of a ravine over the side of a switch back road. The truck had petrol in it when it lost control and slid off the road, down the mountain and into the side of someone's house. Can you imagine having breakfast and a gas truck knocks your house from its foundation?

We were heading there. Not skidding off a mountain but towards engagement. At least that's what my mom said to C when she called my parents to ask "for my hand" before we left on our trip. My mom's response "oh sure, you were heading that way anyway".

Post canopy tour and post shower, C got down on bended knee and asked me to be her wife. She made me a ring out of passion fruit vine from the terrace (as a place holder for the one she is having custom made for me). I took her hand and as our eyes swelled up with tears said "Hells yeah."

So now we are planning a wedding -- the holy mother of traditions if there was one.

C and I have been to plenty of weddings and plus, we just did a gut renovation of a two bedroom apt.

But how hard can it be?

Guess we will find out soon enough.