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Probably the most amusing thing about our trip to marriage court today was the mismatch between our blasé pragmatism and the perky enthusiasm of the judge performing the honours. She sounded honestly disappointed that we weren't exchanging rings. (I told the GWO we'd missed a real opportunity by not sliding on some cockrings before we left so we could answer, "We're already wearing them.") When she asked why were taking this step, we exchanged a wry glance that said We're not really going to tell her what precipitated this, are we? "We were going to hold out for marriage," I said, "but our hand was forced."
"It's coming! Hopefully we'll see you back here soon!"
"Actually, I was hoping we could just upgrade online."
"Oh no! It's going to be a different thing. You'll get a chance to do this again. It'll be fun!"
And with that, she dashed my hopes of a stealth wedding. That was, I thought, the one clear advantage to a civil union: It's not something anyone will make much of a fuss over. But legally, the requirements are virtually identical: $60 for a licence, 24-hour "cooling off" period, no blood relation, etc. Under Illinois law, we are recognised as being "spouses". The only real difference is the name and, as a result of that, Federal recognition. Surely the legislature could add a provision allowing for the painless conversion of existing unions? But of course that's too much to expect from a bureaucracy as ponderous and saurian as ours.
I suppose I can't complain too much given that the total time between realising what we needed to do and getting it done was about 64 hours. On Wednesday night, my open enrollment package arrived and I noticed that "domestic partner" was missing from the list of definitions. We immediately went online, saw that applying for a civil union required us both to apply in person, and scheduled that for first thing Friday morning. That visit to the county clerk's office was a model of efficient behaviour: we were in and out in something like twenty minutes. It was also a kick. Our clerk was a beefy little guy with arm tattoos and perfect pompadour, easy on the eyes (for me at least) and unflappably polite, even as I stumbled in answering his questions. I hadn't expected he'd need to know my phone number, let alone my parents' names and birthplaces.
When I asked how we went about lining up a judge, he handed me a flyer for the marriage court and pointed out that they had Saturday morning hours. So today we once more went through the whole routine of taking the 147 Express downtown and standing in line in a windowless basement room with a bunch of strangers. But here the assortment was much more colourful. I knew we'd found the right building when I saw people standing out front with bouquets and cameras. And I thought we'd be in line much longer than we were because I didn't realise that there were at least as many hangers-on ahead of us as actual couples. (
monshu, who'd done his research, said that each couple was allowed up to ten other people in the room with them.)
But the most charming aspect of the whole experience has been how badly our joking and shrugging masks how much it means to us on some level. All the smart remarks about pre-nups and backing out only serve the purpose of reinforcing how remote those considerations are. The legal arrangements may be all about practicalities, but the commitment underlying them is something else again.
"It's coming! Hopefully we'll see you back here soon!"
"Actually, I was hoping we could just upgrade online."
"Oh no! It's going to be a different thing. You'll get a chance to do this again. It'll be fun!"
And with that, she dashed my hopes of a stealth wedding. That was, I thought, the one clear advantage to a civil union: It's not something anyone will make much of a fuss over. But legally, the requirements are virtually identical: $60 for a licence, 24-hour "cooling off" period, no blood relation, etc. Under Illinois law, we are recognised as being "spouses". The only real difference is the name and, as a result of that, Federal recognition. Surely the legislature could add a provision allowing for the painless conversion of existing unions? But of course that's too much to expect from a bureaucracy as ponderous and saurian as ours.
I suppose I can't complain too much given that the total time between realising what we needed to do and getting it done was about 64 hours. On Wednesday night, my open enrollment package arrived and I noticed that "domestic partner" was missing from the list of definitions. We immediately went online, saw that applying for a civil union required us both to apply in person, and scheduled that for first thing Friday morning. That visit to the county clerk's office was a model of efficient behaviour: we were in and out in something like twenty minutes. It was also a kick. Our clerk was a beefy little guy with arm tattoos and perfect pompadour, easy on the eyes (for me at least) and unflappably polite, even as I stumbled in answering his questions. I hadn't expected he'd need to know my phone number, let alone my parents' names and birthplaces.
When I asked how we went about lining up a judge, he handed me a flyer for the marriage court and pointed out that they had Saturday morning hours. So today we once more went through the whole routine of taking the 147 Express downtown and standing in line in a windowless basement room with a bunch of strangers. But here the assortment was much more colourful. I knew we'd found the right building when I saw people standing out front with bouquets and cameras. And I thought we'd be in line much longer than we were because I didn't realise that there were at least as many hangers-on ahead of us as actual couples. (
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But the most charming aspect of the whole experience has been how badly our joking and shrugging masks how much it means to us on some level. All the smart remarks about pre-nups and backing out only serve the purpose of reinforcing how remote those considerations are. The legal arrangements may be all about practicalities, but the commitment underlying them is something else again.
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Now,you two still have the right to a small private wedding ceremony when times are truly legally good - however your friends, family and pals have the right to honor and celebrate your commitment to each other.
Just sayin'
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(Naah, screw it. Congratulations!)
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You'd probably get more timely updates on what we've been up to if you spoke to me more than once or twice a year.