So as you’ve probably guessed, Jonno and I went to Provincetown last week. As always, it was perfect: the weather, the food, the friends, the strangers. If you’ve never been, all I can say is that it’s a tiny bit magical, and you should give it a go. (Just try to avoid the crowded theme weeks.)
Provincetown isn’t easy to get to — at least not from most parts of the country. There aren’t any direct flights so far as I know, though you can take a Cape Air puddle-jumper from Boston. Apart from that, your options are the ferry (90 minutes for the fast one) or an hour’s drive up Cape Cod. I’ve never done Cape Air, but the ferry and the drive are perfect ways to ease into vacation mode and feel like you’re going someplace truly remote.
Jonno and I hadn’t been to the Cape since before Katrina, so this year, it was high on our to-do list. We invited two couples to join us — our friends Todd P. and Ben (who’d visited once before) and Brian and Todd S. (who were newbies).
Last time we were there, gay marriage had just been legalized. Technically, there was a residency requirement, but there was an easy workaround. Unfortunately, we didn’t learn that until too late in the trip, so we didn’t have time to file all the necessary paperwork.
We’d toyed with the idea of getting hitched since then, but never too seriously. I mean, after 13+ years, it seemed almost beside the point. And yet, I was charmed and touched and taken aback when Jonno popped the question a couple of months before we were scheduled to leave.
Of course, the other couples on the trip had been together for many years, too, so we rang them up to see if they wanted to join in the fun. Brian and Todd S. were out shopping; after Jonno explained the situation, Brian asked Todd, who was driving at the time. Todd responded with something to the effect of “Hell yeah!”, they high-fived, and it was done. Todd P. was a little more romantic: he took Ben to the levee and wooed him on the banks of the Mississippi.
My only fear going through with this was that the vacation would turn into a destination wedding, and I’d return to New Orleans just as beat and exhausted as I was before. Thankfully, that didn’t happen. Our friend Ryan hooked us up with a great priest, and we found a caterer who could do a clambake on the beach, meaning all we had to do was show up at 6pm wearing clean shirts. Our friends Jack, John, Kerry, Parker, and Tim joined us on the beach, as did Jonno’s mom and one of her friends. The sunset alone was worth the price of admission.
So now I suppose I’m hitched for real. I don’t feel any different (yet), but I am trying to get in the habit of calling Jonno my husband, which has always sounded strange to my ears, even though I’ve heard gay men use the term for at least a couple of decades. Of course, legally, he’s my husband in just a handful of states, but it’s a start.
I doubt I’ll post the wedding video, even though Ben and Todd P. recited some beautiful vows. And Jonno read a great poem, which made even crusty old me a little teary: “My True-Love Hath My Heart” by Sir Philip Sydney.
My true-love hath my heart, and I have his,
By just exchange one for the other given:
I hold his dear, and mine he cannot miss;
There never was a bargain better driven.
His heart in me keeps me and him in one,
My heart in him his thoughts and senses guides;
He loves my heart for once it was his own;
I cherish his because in me it bides.
His heart his wound receivèd from my sight;
My heart was wounded with his wounded heart;
For as from me on him his hurt did light,
So still methought in me his hurt did smart:
Both equal hurt, in this change sought our bliss,
My true love hath my heart and I have his.
I didn’t expect that at all, which made it even better.
Last, here’s a shot of the wedding in medias res — taken by my shutterbug boyfriend husband, of course.