How old were you when you got married?
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Author Topic: How old were you when you got married?  (Read 405 times)
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« on: February 06, 2017, 09:00:48 am »

Gay people tend to get married at an older age than straight people.  Just curious, what age did you get married?
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« Reply #1 on: March 21, 2017, 03:21:27 pm »

hopefully 32
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« Reply #2 on: March 21, 2017, 03:23:53 pm »

What a very interesting question.
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« Reply #3 on: April 20, 2017, 04:10:21 am »

31. And I'm glad I waited until then.
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« Reply #4 on: April 20, 2017, 05:04:02 am »

 Hug I married my wife on July 10th, 1994. I was 38 soon to be 39. Yes, I'm still married to the same women. with love
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« Reply #5 on: April 24, 2017, 03:21:16 am »

33
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« Reply #6 on: April 29, 2017, 04:47:35 am »

I met my husband when I was 14, he was 16, almost 17.  He was my older brother's best friend, a handsome hippy senior who lived ten miles away.  The two would lock me out of my brother's room and smoke pot.  I hated them for ignoring me.  Eventually Cary came to live with us because it was closer for college.  But, since I had the only bunk-beds in the house Cary slept in my lower bunk 5 nights a week until he went off to college.  I was in love with him then and would go horny nuts in silence peeking through the covers when he would dress or be naked in front of me.  (After we were married he said he would never JO in bed, fearful I would know and want to join him.  Of course he knew I was gay and he wasn't into "that kind of thing" back then).  He was unabashedly straight, dated girls along with my brothers, lost his virginity to a girl he ended up engaged to for almost a year.

After that loss (she aborted their child, he was devastated) he moved back in with us.  We live (my Dad still does) in a big five-story house across from Gherridelli Square (SF Wharf).  I was a senior then and 17, he was in his second year of college and had just turned twenty.  Most of my brothers were out of the house and it was just me, Dad and Cary.  Cary and me did everything together and my Dad was always around.  Years later my Dad told me he had always sensed something about Cary, adding, "Cary was infatuated with you when you were around 15 - always asking about you, who you were with... would come to the house for Gary but always want to know where you were.  He knew back then he had feelings for you."

He had been offered a Assistant Professorship with the University of Hawaii and there was no question he was going to take it.  He had a Masters in Architecture and was then part-timing for Fong Lee Associates, one of San Francisco's largest architectural firms.  "You'll come with, right?" he beamed.  I still had to finish high school but I could come over after that, before I started college that Fall.  "You can go to UH - much better than CalState," he coaxed.

For me it was everything I ever dreamed about.  Living in Paradise with the man of my dreams.  Sadly, that man was straight as hell and had no interest in same-sex anything - or so he thought.

I had applied to UH and he sent a letter and called some people there insisting he wouldn't take the position unless his younger brother was admitted.  I got accepted and had to be on campus by June 3 for registration.  It was March then and he wouldn't start his job until the Fall.  To Cary it was just two best buddies moving to "pot heaven" Hawaii for sun, fun and a new career.  Since the breakup with Beverly he never mentioned women.  I thought it was because since we were always together and I rarely talked about women, unless I pointed to a pretty girl.  

I believed Cary would never be my 'intimate' partner but I still loved him enough to want him to be happy and if it was to "find him a girlfriend" I would do my best.  I was a girl magnet, tall, blond surfer type, natural born athlete, handsome and no matter where we went together I was the first one women looked at.  When the opportunity came I struck up the conversation and would then introduce Cary, wait long enough for them to click and then move on.  Cary would chat, smile like he was interested, laugh, take down her number (if lucky) but never follow-up. We did this many times, sometimes he would comment or get 'giddy' at meeting a new girl.  I didn't like that and like him, would go silent.   Cary never followed-up on those numbers as far as I know and no matter how hard I coaxed for information, he wouldn't budge. It was none of my business or he had nothing really to report.  I hoped for the latter and made an extra effort to get closer to him.  I figured Cary didn't like people looking into his private life so closely so he would just shut down.  He also didn't like me looking or commenting on other men.  This being San Francisco, he noticed every guy who walked by and looked at me a little to long and when I'd notice some hot guy checking him out I'd give him a nudge and nod toward the guy.  The guy would smile and Cary would walk right by him. 

At Sunday dinner everybody was happy for Cary and excited that I was going too and attending the University of Hawaii.  Everyone was jealous and all were promising to come stay for week long visits.  

Two weeks before we were to leave we went to a midnight sneak release showing of a new James Bond movie.  We got out just before 2am and started the six block walk home, passing a straight bar called the Rose & Thistle.  Cary went there often.  He pushed on the door and it was still open.  He said something then waved me in. The bartender came over and locked the door and set us up with two beers and two shots of tequila. I was still 17 but no questions were asked.  We downed the beers in between tequila sips and when we finished the bartender filled them up 'for the birthday boy!" and a cheer went up.  We walked out thirty minutes later drunk.  As we steadied each other Cary said he didn't think Pierce Brosnan was a very good kisser.  That started the conversation of what makes a good kiss and I asked, "Have you ever kissed a guy?"  He looked away to poo poo the thought and said "No" "Then how can you compare?  Men are much better kissers," I added like a challenge.  We had stopped in front of Brownie's Hardware Store with a deep dark entry.  I pushed his chest and he stumbled backward into the doorway and there I kissed him.  Softly at first, fishing with my tongue to get inside and when he let me in we went for the best. I had wanted him for so long and now I was actually tasting that beautiful mouth.  

At one point I pulled his ass tight against me and felt his hard-on instantly. I let my hand slide over the bulge and he moaned a bit.  I could feel him in my hand and I knew there was a beautiful almost olive skinned (he is Irish) uncircumcised dangler with a nice set of furry balls.  He was far more hairy than I was with a nice chest of chestnut that ran down his taut belly to a treasure trail so inviting it was hard to look away when he was shirtless.  I wanted to feel that whole naked body against mine.

And like an immature total idiot I blurted out that I was in love with him and had always been in love with him and God I hoped he loved me and and ...  I just wanted to hear him say that back to me but he didn't.  He eased me back and walked away without a word and up the street towards home.  I called out several times, wanted to run and say something, like it was a joke but he wasn't going to stop.  I walked home embarrassed, humiliated and drunk in that order.

And he didn't come home for two full days but the third day was Sunday and I hoped he would show.

When you know someone long and well enough you gain this personal intuition with them but you never know it, you just sense it in your gut.  It was Sunday and I was coming down the stairs when the doorbell rang.  I usually ignored it but I opened it and there, through the screen door stood Cary, hands in the pockets of the same Levi 501's he wore to the movies. He was looking straight at me.  "Hey..." was all he said then he looked away.  My heart was beating like a madman.  It was just good to see him. I pushed the screen and stepped out on the porch beside him. I felt his hand reach for mine and just hold it down between us there.  He was fumbling with our fingers trying to get them together and he was really nervous and all without looking down and still trying to look at me.  "I... I think I'm in love with you too," he said quietly, looked long enough to see me start to smile and suddenly came forth with, "I don't know where I'm going with this... or what I'm doing but it feels good and I know you ... you know, you care about me." Cary couldn't bring himself to say love.

"I'm so in love with you I don't know what to do" and then he went all sheepish.  "Yeah, I think I've known for a long time but shit, what do I say, I mean, ya know to people?"  I opened my mouth but he added, "How do I say, 'Oh I'm with this guy now, meet my boyfriend Mike..." and the look on his face was serious.  He was scared.  I wanted to kiss him so I moved closer.  He thought I wanted more room and stepped back but I grabbed at his T-shirt and pulled him to me.  This time he kissed me and I remember it as the first time I ever tasted a sweet sugar kiss.  It's when two sets of pheromones mesh perfectly together resulting in the saliva of both tasting sweet, like sugar. That's why I love to linger and kiss him and he does with me.  "You are not alone, you know that."  Cary looked at Mike and hugged him.  "You won't leave if well, if you start to hate me?"  "Shut up.  I love you.  I won't leave you ever."

There is much more to all of this, but I'll ease out here.  To answer the question above more concisely, Cary and I married twice.  Once in 2004 when he proposed in the shower and the Mayor announced the issuance of same-sex marriage licenses in SF (yes, we got one and we married) but that marriage was annulled State and voted in by the electorate.  We were deep knee in a business Hawaiian life, living with my grandparents in a cute little cottage hidden around a bend behind their house. 

My grandparents adored Cary (they have passed on) and I know they were both pleased to see me so happy because they threw us a beach wedding and Cary was in on it.  He had asked me to marry him a second time when we were surfing soon after we got there.  He's an avid surfer and spent far too much time out in the waves than usual, and when he came running in dragging the board behind him he dropped before me and shook his wet hairy chestnut brown head all over me.  His hair was now long and fell past his shoulders, he sported a swordsman's beard and mustache and with his deep brown eyes he was as bohemian as he could get and gorgeous to me.  He kept chattering away while he dug inside his yellow jams to the little pocket hidden in the waistband.  Something came out and he squeezed it in his hand.  I pretended to pay little attention and figured it was a pot tube, a slender plastic tube surfers keep their joints in while in water.  He went no where without a least one joint on him.

He was talking nonsense and I was sort of listening and then he quipped, "Hey," he said, "look at me.." and I looked at him.  "I love you, hear me?" and I smiled.  "That's not what you just said.  You were talking about some hash or tangie something..."  I corrected him because I had been listening to his jabbering and that's what he was saying. He took a deep breath.  "Mike," he said with an exasperated tone, "I'm trying to be serious here."  "About what?"

His knee was now tired and he shifted to the other one.  "What are you doing?" I asked and he said, "Oh shut up and leaned in for a kiss.  I held his face in my oily hands and kissed him good.  "Now you happy or should I just get naked?"  I was a private beach and one old fisherman was way down the way, you could barely see him.  

He leaned up tall, still on his knees and with both hands behind his back.  "Will you marry me?" and he opened his palm to reveal a gold wedding band.  I was surprised.  "Of course, my God ... Cary ... but Cary we can't..." and now he fell on top of me.  "Yes we can, yes we can, yes we can..." he kept saying as he licked and kissed my ear driving me insane.  He stopped and whispered, "We're going to have a Hawaiian wedding and Al and Alice did it all for us."  

Side note here:  for years I spent at least two-four weeks staying with my Grandparents (my Dad's dad).  My Grandpa adored my mother and considered her his daughter and to him, I was her last baby and the only son who looks just like her, so he never once flinched at adoring me.  There were times he would just stare at me and smile or remind me how much I looked like her.  Alice, otoh, was not so giving because she was forced to call on her Hawaiian neighbors and Alice was married to "The Doctor" but Al convinced her the locals would see them as good people (as they were houlies, not born in Hawaii).  My Grandfather was the Director of Kaiser Permanente Hospital over on Oahu and flew back and forth three times a week.  He was also a true stoner, grew his own and supplied the little village with the best pot grown in his 'lava-loam' garden.  When Grandpa had a beach party the people came. There were probably 100 people there who, through word of mouth came running and skipping to join the wedding.

A lot more happened before the wedding: I made a joke that my ring "didn't have a diamond", and the next day Cary drove into Hilo, to deBeers and bought a 2 carat loose high quality diamond and brought it home to me.  Note here: this is how a straight man thinks: he believed I wanted the diamond to sit as a solitaire on top, like a woman's wedding ring.  And believe it or not, he was willing to marry me wearing such a ring!  I laughed so hard saying, "No I don't want it to sit on top, I want it buried in the center...  I'm not a girl Cary!"  "Ohhhh... I didn't mean that."  Cary was not interested in adding a diamond to his ring.  He would stick with the gold band and I've never seen him without it on.

We married on June 2, 2008 for the second time.  We had known each other for 12 years, been a together as a same-sex couple for 3 years.  Cary had found the beauty of same-sex and to this day is the guy I love to make love to. 

Something inside tells you when you meet the right guy.  It's a real gut intuition kind of feeling but when you find that guy and think it is hopeless, do not give up.  Stay his friend and let him get to know you for the real person you are.  It's a chance but that's all we really have in life are chances.  Don't pass them up.


« Last Edit: April 29, 2017, 06:20:20 am by (Hidden) » Logged


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« Reply #7 on: May 04, 2017, 03:25:42 pm »

Fortunately still single and free to be a slut
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