Fishing with Mike Pence

I remember “Rain” came home for lunch that day.  The June summer sun was flooding in the windows of my home office and the talking head on CNN was droning otherworldly.  “The Supreme Court has ruled in a landmark case, five to four that the fundamental right to marry is guaranteed to same sex couples.”

It felt like all of the air left the room.  The shock and the tears and the joy, we stood holding each other for a very long time heaving out the worry that had been mostly unspoken for months.  We were married, really married and our state was forced to recognize our marriage whether they liked it or not.

I mean Vermont is lovely but we have a home here, one kid in college and one in high school.  We struggle with our budget on home repairs, unexpected kid stuff and life’s ups and down just like any other married couple.

We work and we save and we consume and we love.  I’m sure there’s some great poet to quote here and plenty of bad poetry of my own but I have never loved anyone the way that I love Rain.  I am overwhelmed with the idea of making her happy.  There is just no way in creation that this joy, this passion, this destiny is some sort of abomination, some mental abnormality to be cured.

I wondered what insight I must hold being forced to wait to marry until I was in my fifties.  I wondered how past relationships may have been different had we been offered the right.  I could write volumes and possibly will about being denied legal action against a partner whose name is on the lease or mortgage.

While there is something psychological about a relationship that you can walk away from more easily versus a marriage feeling solid there are some very real laws and protections offered that insure you don’t lose everything like I have in the past.

So I wonder.  Could Mike Pence spend an afternoon with Rain and me, maybe go fishing or have a few beers and watch some football?  I mean, I’m sure it would be uncomfortable and I’d probably make some inappropriate jokes.  Rain would be all Julia Sugerbaker smiling and preparing the arsenal if he misspoke.  Would he feel superior maybe throw the alpha male thing at us or be a total weasel acting like we’re great fun and then joking to Trump later on that he’d rather fuck Bart Simpson’s aunts?

Guaranteed we’d get the “My good friend in college had a gay brother who I loved.”  Or, “Love the sinner hate the sin.”  Maybe we’d spar over a few bible verses and quote some shell fish abominations.  Maybe he’d get drunk and admit to some mutual masturbation with some Boy Scout troop.  Or whisper, “You know the lesbian thing doesn’t bother me at all it’s the gay men that I can’t get past.”

Could Mike Pence look me and Rain in the eye and tell us we should go to jail for wanting a marriage license?


First Missive from one of the Mrs.

“I think you need to write. You need a way to say what you are feeling”, said my wife as I sat blubbering through tears pierced by intermittent rages of indignation mixed with outbursts of total hopelessness.  It was about 4 days post-election and I had just received my first threatening message via Facebook private message from some man who I did not even know.  How is it possible to feel absolutely betrayed by family, coworkers and the human race in general that voted for the orange buffoon and now add to that betrayal now fear of our safety from some hate filled stranger?   Let’s add on top of that the danger that now my job/career may be in jeopardy because, as an “out” lesbian with a habit of speaking her mind  I now find myself facing the fact that 74% of my small town voted for a reality show star .  I found out on the following Monday just how real that fear was, and how my ability to have real freedom of speech will have to wait a few more years until I can retire from said job.

But I digress, back to the bathtub.  So, my loving and very patient wife suggested that we shut down the Facebook page that was ground zero of the threatening private message and start a blog where I can write and work out all of the angst and sadness that fills my head now since the ‘great republican take-over’ has begun.  I hope to be able to add my real name at some point, but not now in the current community and environment that I have to live and work within.  Please be patient, and I do hope that something that I write can help someone else struggling with the same issues.

Oh, and we did start our own Facebook page as well under the same name -Mrs.Mrs.Missives.



Mrs. & Mrs. Missives

In an effort to stay somewhat sane in this post-2016 election world, we have joined forces to create this blog.  This will be a safe space where we can share our thoughts and feelings as we navigate through our marriage, raising our kids, surviving this world where we now find ourselves.  Maybe if we share more of our life together, people will be less willing to jump on the bandwagon of “rolling back that marriage equality thing” and more able to see that love is love.  1

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A Glimmer of Hope

Thank you, thank you, thank you mother earth, higher power, goddess, Jesus, Buddah, Great Spirit. This one little light, this one little spark of future hope, this one little glimmer in a political landscape that becomes bleaker and more hateful by the second has given me something I thought I had lost – faith in my fellow humans on this earth, in this country, in this state.

One-term Pat has lived up to his well deserved nick name. The only NC Governor since the 1970’s when NC first began allowing Governors to serve more than one term to NOT serve a second term.  One-term Pat, indeed. Please, don’t let the screen door hit ya where the good lord split ya, well maybe a good thwak on the bottom would do him some good.

I did say it was a glimmer. My little ray of light dims when I think of all the nefarious republicans who pulled McCrooked’s strings, telling him what to do and how to do it in the most efficient and deceitful way (motorcycle abortion law anyone?).  I know he did not come up with the whole civil rights debacle called House Bill 2 on his own.  Those who were behind him, hand firmly up his butt and moving his mouth with their greedy, bigoted, homophobic and trans-phobic little fingers are still in power. And they have multiplied.

But I digress.  I have this ONE little glimmer of hope, and I’m gonna let this little light shine.


Mrs. One


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