We’ve had rocky times, my wife and I. We argue from time to time, and then there’s my alleged drinking problem and her alleged infidelity and that little episode at the furniture store that I won’t recount.*
But this morning, it is all sunshine and rainbows. We woke up more in love than ever. I threw out my whiskey bottles, and she called her lover and told him it was over between them. We were ready to start anew, our problems well behind us, because the voters in the state rallied around us and defended our marriage from the real enemies: the homosexual couple down the street.
That’s right. We never thought about it before, but when Bob and Steve moved in, that was when things started to fall apart. Every time we saw them mowing the lawn, cleaning out the gutters, and painting the fence, tending to their property like any middle class family that loves their home, we felt our relationship erode. We’d run into them at the store, discussing which lettuce to buy, and we’d feel ourselves drift apart. I’d edge away from produce to the spirits, looking to submerge my marital problems in a fifth of JD. We’d go out on a date, happy as can be, and see Bob and Steve at another table. My wife would feel her fondness for me evaporate, and start eyeing the waiter knowingly.
If those young men had carried it any further, surely our marriage would have turned to dust. Their mere presence was too much a weight on us. What if they adopted children? What if they exchanged vows? What if – gasp – the state honored their commitment? It would surely have destroyed us, and every other married couple in the state.
Fortunately, the wise voters rose up and PROTECTED our marriage from the erosive influence of legal documents testifying to the long-term commitments of total strangers, and now our marriage is saved. Thank you, Tennessee!!
- These are hypothetical problems, since we are a composite of Tennesee married couples.
