I’ve been labouring under the false assumption that it’s the fundamentalists, the right wing conservatives standing in the way of gay marriage. Not so. Or not completely.

I now know that there’s a vast spread of middle-of-the-road Australians scared shitless by anything even slightly unconventional when it comes to weddings. They’re everywhere, they’re clinging to tradition with every fibre of their morally indignant being, and they cross into every population group.
There’s enough of them out there who get their full-sized briefs in a knot over non-church weddings to make it clear they’ll never tolerate same-sex unions.
I got married last week. I had the most fabulous day, but it was an interesting and somewhat disturbing journey getting there.
One of atheism’s challenges is how to deal with rituals and traditions. So many rites of passage are intensely intertwined with spiritual ideas, imbued with religious ideology.
But it turns out removing God from a wedding was, relatively, the easy bit.
It turns out, in fact, that people want these things to follow a formula with only slight, non-threatening deviations. Flowers, for instance. It’s OK to have different coloured flowers. And hair. You can go up or down without too much drama.
The difficulties start with the search for a celebrant. They all post these vapid pictures with slightly fuzzy backgrounds and puerile statements like “helping you make your special day the most special it can be”. Just as an aside, many of them double as funeral directors.
We ended up asking a Catholic priest we know to do a civil ceremony. But it turned out at the last moment he’d mistaken “atheists” for “lapsed but baptised Catholics” and pulled out. So we ended up with quite an alternative choice, which begat much sneering and aggressive bewilderment.
Then there was the lack of bridal or groom parties. The outrage this inspired was mostly from all the service providers who assume the profit from the purchase of a dress/shoes/hairdo will be at least quadrupled by some of your girlfriends dressed as your clone. Sorry, eyebrow lady, better luck next time.
Then we had people refusing to come because of the lack of a sit-down-three-course-chicken-or-beef meal, and those who were confused by children being diplomatically uninvited. And the most common conversation of the night? Name changing and lack thereof.
The most joy, the most bonding part of a marriage ceremony is personalising it, working out what it is that you want to represent you – the songs, the words, the food, the future. For some reason people out there – I did notice that the most vehement nay-sayers were those whose own relationships were troubled – get all het up and want to depersonalise the whole thing into a banal, beige prototype where nothing is unexpected. Something easily digestible.
I could go on, but this is all getting a bit self indulgent. Suffice to say that I have had it driven home in a most enervating way that people really do not like change. It scares them. They want to know they can turn up to an event or just take part in their everyday lives without being disrupted. Wake up and put on matching socks. Get through life without having their little worlds shaken.
We’ve comforted ourselves into a stale little existence. We are oh so air conditioned, so convenience stored, so hygienically cleaned.
Gay marriage? I’m feeling pessimistic right now, but I really hope that it will come about soon, and can be the sort of catalyst to shake up the whole idea of human love, relationships, and rituals, to make it real and new.
I do.
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