Tuesday, November 04, 2008

Dear Very Hot Readers,

I just got up at five in the morning to pop a bunch of Wellness Formula, bundle up against the drizzle and walk to the polls. It was pretty awesome. I ended up standing in line with this middle-aged Black electrician from Chicago who told me he woulda preferred Hillary on account of she has more experience, stood by her man, and has a great ass. All in all, a great Tuesday morning.

Okay, this is for all you Cali wafflers out there. Or, Cali commiseraters. Or, Mormons who wanna go rogue. It's a little story I like to call "Why Prop 8 Makes Me (And The Baby Jesus) Cry."

On my last day of college (back in the *cough* 90s) I hopped in the back of somebody's crowded sedan to drive to a graduation afterparty. A tall, slender young man was sitting in the front passenger seat. He turned to me and said, "Hi, Sera."

And I said, "Oh my God, hi! It's been a while!"

And he smiled and said, "I know we haven't seen each other much, but you know-- I've been keeping a little eye on you all these years."

The reason this didn't come off as creepy was: a) he looks like a supermodel, with big melty eyes, and b) he just meant that though we hadn't hung out much since our class together Freshman year, he'd kept track of my progress through our little theater boot camp. His name was-- is-- Michael, and we'd been ships in the night for some time, but our appreciation of one another was mutual. He just had this vibe. You know how you can tell some people are totally devoid of bullshit? They're exactly what you see, from their glasses to their Vans? That's Michael.

So, I grinned and he grinned, and we wondered why the fuck we'd seen so little of each other. He just shrugged, the way a wise fortune teller might, and said, "I wouldn't worry about it. I have a feeling we'll be in each other's lives for a long time." And then he flipped on the radio, and the subject turned to the acquisition of tacos at Baja Fresh.

So, cut to... now. Years and years later. Look, I'm a nice Jewish girl, but I wouldn't take a bullet for just anybody. Michael, though? A firing squad. Of bullets dipped in death juice and cayenne pepper. Seriously. He's my dearest.

It would take way too long to explain what's happened between Michael and me in this blog post. There's been a lot of theater, good food and beverages and, okay, that one time we took that stuff and went to see The Big Lebowski. Text messages and homemade CDs and joyrides in his convertible. Also holding each other's hands through break-ups of epic gnarl, the breech births of our unorthodox careers, and the deaths of both our dads. Michael is not just my friend, he is my family. And yes, for your information, my sexy, nosy little pals, the reason he and I never fell into bed to consummate our otherwise perfect-in-every-way relationship in inevitable romantic comedy fashion is that we both prefer dudes. I guess it's lucky for him; I'm not exactly famous for keeping boyfriends around very long.

Michael, however, has been with his Sig Other for going on nine years.

I know. Who the fuck stays with one guy for nine years? In Los Angeles? They're a shining beacon of hope to us all.

You see where I'm going with this. Michael may or may not decide to pop the question. (If I were his bf, I'd be getting pre-tty antsy, but that's another post.) As of the writing of this missive, they can go ahead and do the crazy deed here in California, if they so please. Just like the rest of us. If you go to the polls and vote NO ON 8, it is my hope that the misguided souls attempting to add discrimination against my family to our state Constitution will fail.

Sime asked you to do this the other day. This is me asking you one more time, from the bottom of my heart. Regardless of your personal squicks on the matter-- look, I'm not deaf, I do hear people talking at gas stations. I get that there are plenty of earnest, hardworking people out there who cannot quite put their finger on why gay marriage makes them uncomfy. Seriously, it's cool by me if you feel weird about it. I understand, we all go to therapy for something. It's okay. Be ambivalent, but be a mensch. Vote NO because while there is a lot of emotion surrounding it, the core issue is not an emotional one: it's about curtailing rights. Evolved people are ixnay on that. Period.

In the end, it doesn't make a diff if it's separate water fountains or yellow stars. Yes, I said it. No, I'm not comparing Prop 8 to the Holocaust, relax. I'm just saying, Jews especially need to nut up when we see the persecution of minorities.

Write me in the comments that you No-ed on 8! You'll make my stressed, freaked, praying-for-Barack-and-the-queers day.

Seriously. I'll even post more, as soon as I finish my screenplay. I promise. I mean, posting at all would be posting more, but you know what I mean. I'm here to make a deal. This is important to me. Take advantage of me while you can.

Love you like a gay brother,