Taking a Gay Relationship from 3.5
Minutes to Decades
When Phil and Kevin invited us to their
home for Sunday brunch a couple of weeks ago, we had no idea we would
arrive to a roomful of friends toasting us with a hearty “happy
anniversary” and bearing a rainbow-decorated cake with the words “John
and Bill, 35 years.”
John immediately turned to me with a
quizzical look on his face. “Is it really our 35th anniversary?” he
asked. His query brought a laugh from our friends who figured it was
typical of his deadpan, sometimes Gracie Allen-esque sense of humor. But,
truth is, unless I point it out, our anniversary might go completely
unnoticed by my life partner (a term that has increasing meaning with each
passing year). One of my jobs in our relationship is to keep track of the
calendar.
Divvying up duties and responsibilities
according to each partner’s personal priorities and proclivities is one
of the factors that can lead a short-term romance into a long-term
connection.
The question comes up frequently,
especially in conversations with younger people: How have you guys managed
to stay together so long? The most honest answer is: We don’t know; time
just passes on its own. The most useful answer is: We don’t think or
worry about it.
If I were writing a book about Grummies
(Gay Relationships for Dummies), my key piece of advice would be: Stop
dwelling on success. Almost every gay man or lesbian I know who is in the
throes of a budding relationship follows the introduction of his/her new
partner with a whispered aside of, “It probably won’t last.”
“Probably not,” I want to respond.
“But who cares? Just enjoy each other right now.”
As a chronic worrier—it’s an ailment I
picked up in early childhood from my mother—I never thought I would be
in any kind of relationship for three-and-a-half minutes let alone
decades.
In the weeks after I first met John in a
bar in San Francisco in May of 1973, I spent most of my time fretting
about his well being (when he wasn’t around) and that he would quickly
tire of me (when he was around).
It was only after we decided to take a
virgin (for both of us) trip to Europe a couple months after we met that I
began to relax and live—as they say—“in the moment.” During our
eight-nation travels, mostly by slow train, we had plenty of uninterrupted
time to explore what we had in common and discuss our aspirations for the
foreseeable future. We found that our goals meshed nicely, and our travels
helped prove that we really did enjoy—and detest—many of the same
things.
So, my tip number one regarding
“Grummies” is: Don’t buy a condo together until you know you have
sufficient overlapping interests and values.
If your idea of a perfect weekend is to sit
by a swimming pool with a chilled Cosmo in your hand and his is to pitch a
pup tent in a mosquito-infested campground with a can of insect repellant
in his palm, then your relationship is not likely to last. That does not
mean you shouldn’t attempt to broaden your horizons by joining him for
an occasional nature trek, but if foraging in the forest is a major
passion of his and you despise bugs and snakes, the odds are you will come
to regard him as just another pest.
Please don’t take this advice too far.
Just because you could kill for an order of soft-poached Eggs Benedict on
Sunday morning and he thrives on scrambled, do not assume a hardboiled
attitude. He is allowed—and I believe it is written in the Geneva
Accords—his human right to a breakfast of choice.
Like most of you, I have witnessed
differences in habits of consumption break up some otherwise very likeable
people. Just recently, a younger gay couple we know—both men attractive,
personable and fun to be around—gave up their attempt at partnership
after not quite a year. They were often the life of the party and the kind
of guys everyone was hoping had come across true romance. (In fact,
several matchmakers in our circle had encouraged them to hook up.)
Problem was: While Jason enjoys nursing a
couple beers and taking an occasional hit on a blunt, Joshua prefers a
wider variety of mood-altering substances. And Josh often didn’t stop
drinking until Jason had to carry him home. It was a task Jason initially
tried to address by encouraging his barfly partner to stay home with him.
But evenings spent watching Survivor and American Idol were not Josh’s
cup of tea—so he started going out on his own. When that happens on a
frequent basis, the writing is on the proverbial wall.
Seemingly little things can count. John and
I both acknowledge that one of the first signs of our long-term
compatibility was that, as much as we enjoyed going dancing and dining, we
were often quite content to stay home and watch sitcoms—particularly
Maude and Mary Tyler Moore’s shows. It didn’t hurt that John always
has been a good cook and he has never minded (well, rarely) preparing
tasty meals for us to enjoy on our TV trays.
Some differences are more important than
others. Personally, I cannot imagine staying in a relationship with anyone
who espouses a political or moral philosophy dramatically different from
mine. Sure, any two people will disagree occasionally. But I continue to
be amazed by couples like contrarian political operatives James Carville
and Mary Matalin, who somehow continue to keep their marriage going.
So what do I know? Even after 35 years I
certainly don’t have all—even most—of the answers. My best advice is
to avoid dwelling on the matter of whether your new relationship will
thrive, seek and keep seeking common ground with your partner, and be
willing to forgive and forget.
When I broach the subject with other paired
people who have stayed the course for a long period of time—and we know
numerous gay/lesbian couples whose relationships have spanned four to six
decades—they generally shrug off the questions in much the same way John
and I do.
The hosts of our anniversary brunch,
snowbirds from Massachusetts, were legally married there two years ago.
“This summer we’ll have notched up 24 years together and 24 months of
formal marriage,” said Kevin. “That’s if I don’t divorce him as
soon as we get to Boston this month.”
A
sense of humor always helps.
Bill
Sievert can be reached at billsievert@earthlink.net.
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