Calling all married people

It’s horrible. (Since we used to live in Connecticut, many years ago, my wife and I were married there.)

Domestic partners in Vermont? Well, we didn’t have a lot to do with Vermont. New Jersey giving same-sex couples marrying rights but letting their lege call it something else if they want to? No problem. Massachusetts? Well, since Legal Seafoods isn’t what it used to be, we can just skip there, and don’t get me started on California.

But Connecticut? That was too much.

Now, our marriage has been rendered utterly worthless and pointless. I don’t want to get into details, but the sex is nonexistent, since we’re both haunted by the possibility that, back in New Haven, non-mixed-gender couples might perhaps be having sex at the same time — while having a piece of paper from the state that says that they’re married.

Every moment of friendship and intimacy, ever shared memory, public and private, over thirty years, reduced to utter meaningless by men and women in black robes.