The Ring Thing

Sharing a red-leather booth in a bistro with my longtime partner and another gay couple last spring, just before the first legal gay weddings in the state, we were all enjoying a rollicking conversation until the "M" word crossed someone's lips. Were Jason and I going to get married? I fumbled and turned the question around. The friend who had asked, like me, shook the question off, but his partner turned slightly red in the face and stared down at his plate of steak frites.

What was all that about? You'd think the question would be easy for us, a couple who, a decade before, had celebrated with a wedding ceremony. I'd even chronicled our "marriage" for two years in a gay newspaper. Our friends were no slouches in the fidelity department, either; they had been a couple for years and owned a house together. Still, the word "marriage" had tongue-tied four grown men, and it was a moment before someone steered the conversation safely back to Broadway shows.

All over Massachusetts last year, pretty much every gay couple we know got versions of this phone call: "So, when are you two going to tie the knot?" And other queer couples should expect to deal with the sudden pressure attending that question as even more places around the world legalize gay marriage. It happened 3,000 miles from here, when Spain became the most populous nation to sanction same-sex nuptials, perhaps prodding many a perfectly content novia to explain to her wedding-deprived relatives why she wasn't rushing to become an esposa. Now California is wrangling over similar legislation, though the governator promised to veto the bill and leave the issue to the courts.

Considering the relative newness of such laws, we found it amazing how quickly such a big assumption – that everyone wants to be married – had leapt demographics. Eager would-be in-laws, who once had only heterosexual couples to browbeat, now had a whole new category of couple to hound down the aisle.

I had, I'll admit, done my share to allow for such hounding: I called legislators and went to rallies to fight for this step forward – nagging for all! But I hadn't expected how deeply disconcerting it would be to many same-sex pairs to have their private affairs suddenly up for discussion in the public arena. That exposure spooked some couples, like friends of ours whose discussions of marriage may not have been the exact straw that broke the camel's back, but certainly sped up the splintering.

As for us, my partner of 12 years wondered whether legal marriage would change what we had, while I worried about the ethical implication of state involvement in romantic relationships. At the same time, I also found myself embracing the symbolism: a vision of us as gay superheroes, blinding our foes with laser beams flashing from matching rings. But marrying just to stick it to homophobes is as stupid as marrying just to cap off a drunken evening in your celebrity suite at a Vegas hotel.

Really, considering the million bad reasons people marry, and the resulting high divorce rate, you might think folks would push matrimony a little less. But weddings still seem to evoke images of flickering candles and tearfully delivered vows instead of, say, jointly filed tax returns or shared mortgages. No one calls up to say, "When are you two going to sign medical release forms?" The truth is, more than people want you to be married, they want you to have a wedding.

Having long ago taken care of giving each other power of attorney – a milestone no one else cared about, because it didn't come with a big party – Jason and I kept the wedding forces at bay for months after gay marriage became legal. It was only when we planned to adopt that we decided to go for it. That was the most liberating part of the new law: having the right to choose whether to reject marriage or embrace it. In December, a month after our first adoption information seminar, we stood before a justice of the peace, beaming – without the help of laser-shooting rings.

From the other side of the altar, this is the best advice I can offer gay couples harangued by demands for wedding cake: Unplug the phone. Don't worry about politics, parties, or pressure. When it comes to marriage, the only two voices that matter are the ones that may – or may not – say "I do."

David Valdes Greenwood's play about gay marriage, Constant, will be produced at the Boston Center for the Arts next month. E-mail comments to coupling@globe.com.