Getting hitched
in Vegas without the kitsch.
My partner and i
are not what you’d call marriage tourists. When we
decided to get hitched, it never occurred to us to ship off
to Massachusetts or some other jurisdiction where
same-sex nuptials or even civil unions are legal. We
don’t live there, we wouldn’t get any new
rights there, and we didn’t view our ceremony as a
political action.
No, as tacky as
it will sound for the rest of our lives, we tied the knot
in Vegas. It made sense; it’s our home.
As with many who
come here to wed, this was not my first trip to the
altar. My maiden run took place in 1999 in Sedona, Ariz., to
a man I fell in love with at 20 and ended up splitting
with at 30. That was an over-the-top affair with
nearly 100 people, a DJ, and a fancy sit-down dinner.
I followed through with it despite conflicted feelings, and
I’d later come to view the event as a debacle
that only heightened the humiliation and embarrassment
of our breakup.
Then, two years
after becoming single for the first time in my adult
life, I met Miles while recruiting members for the Vegas
chapter of the National Lesbian and Gay Journalists
Association. This prospect, I also recruited for
myself. Our courtship began in the shadow of the Las Vegas
Strip at a happening little Spanish tapas restaurant called
Firefly. Over bacon-wrapped dates and hot spinach
salad an attraction took hold; within days we were
using the term “boyfriend” to describe one
another.
I was hesitant to
have another wedding, but Miles and I were so much in
love and I didn’t have any of those doubts and fears
of the first go-round. We had been together 18 months
when I proposed to him on bended knee beside a roaring
fire in a suite at a resort on Mount Hood, Ore.
Evidently, he said yes.
We briefly
considered holding the wedding in one of the Vegas resort
chapels—the elegant and recently renovated Mandalay
Bay was our top choice. Then we discovered what a mill
the Vegas wedding thing is. You get about 45 minutes
to have the most important experience of your life
before they usher you out so the next couple can have their
life-changing event. It seemed impersonal, rushed, and
expensive.
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Freelance journalist Friess is author of Gay Vegas: A
Guide to the Other Side of Sin City and cohost,
along with his partner, of the celebrity interview
podcast The Strip.