Dear readers, friends, and family: I thought I'd mention that Kim and I got married last weekend. Yes, again. No, you were not invited. (Admit it, you're glad.) For those wondering why we bagged our fourth wedding, I say, "It's a gay thing."
We did, however, call the Secretary of State's office to find out if #4 was really necessary.
"Last year we got legally married in Massachusetts," I explained [see “Gay Marriage—Take 3” for why]. "Will Vermont now just recognize that one?"
Brittany--in the Secretary's Office--said she didn't know. She said she’d call me back in 20 minutes. After 20 minutes she called back and said she still didn't know, but, well, it had been 20 minutes (gotta love Vermont). Finally she called to report, "I have an answer for you. The attorney says it is customary for states to honor each other’s marriage certificates… but in your case it would be best to contact your own private attorney."
Rather than do that ($$$$), this post was born:
How to have a Low-key, Fourth Gay Wedding to the Same Person, in Vermont, on a Budget
1. First: do not feel guilty for doing this on the cheap. It is not your responsibility to bolster the gasping economies of each and every state that passes gay marriage legislation--even if they did
assure voters what a boost it would be to their local economies.
2. Second: overcome minor technicalities: a pesky screening question on the VT marriage license application reads: "Have you ever been married before?" Sheepishly, our Town Clerk brought
it up. I assured her, "This means 'To A Different Person.'" Still she wasn't sure. After a little gay-driven research, she called me back triumphant, "Get ready for a wedding!" Cost to file for the license: $45.00.
3. Third: Register a Temporary Officiate: if you don't know someone who can legally marry you (clergy member, Justice of the Peace), and don't feel like explaining why you are doing this for a fourth time (or any other gay-extenuating circumstance) pay the $100 to the Secretary of State's office to temporarily empower a friend to be your wedding officiate. You are supposed to file this within 10 days of the ceremony to assure turn-around. Brittany felt bad about the private attorney thing, however, and assured me she'd keep an eye out for our officiate’s registration (!)
4. Fourth: carefully consider who, if anyone, you invite. Have your prospective guests already attended one of your other weddings? Will they be pleasantly humored by the necessity to repeat this ritual and can you provide them with an attractive venue? (Or will this feel like you are asking for that one toast too many?)
5. Fifth: remember that classy doesn't have to be costly! Consider those little cucumber sandwiches with their crusts trimmed (think fine creamery butter with sea salt, thinly sliced fresh cucumber…), and chilled white wine. (Our '98 "Commitment Ceremony" was a full catered affair. In 2001 we served our Civil Union witnesses pie.) Cost of sandwiches: under $10.00. Wine: your discretion. Add toothpicks with cellophane curls if budget allows.
6. Sign, stamp, and deliver. Congratulations!
Again.
We did, however, call the Secretary of State's office to find out if #4 was really necessary.
"Last year we got legally married in Massachusetts," I explained [see “Gay Marriage—Take 3” for why]. "Will Vermont now just recognize that one?"
Brittany--in the Secretary's Office--said she didn't know. She said she’d call me back in 20 minutes. After 20 minutes she called back and said she still didn't know, but, well, it had been 20 minutes (gotta love Vermont). Finally she called to report, "I have an answer for you. The attorney says it is customary for states to honor each other’s marriage certificates… but in your case it would be best to contact your own private attorney."
Rather than do that ($$$$), this post was born:
How to have a Low-key, Fourth Gay Wedding to the Same Person, in Vermont, on a Budget
1. First: do not feel guilty for doing this on the cheap. It is not your responsibility to bolster the gasping economies of each and every state that passes gay marriage legislation--even if they did
assure voters what a boost it would be to their local economies.
2. Second: overcome minor technicalities: a pesky screening question on the VT marriage license application reads: "Have you ever been married before?" Sheepishly, our Town Clerk brought
it up. I assured her, "This means 'To A Different Person.'" Still she wasn't sure. After a little gay-driven research, she called me back triumphant, "Get ready for a wedding!" Cost to file for the license: $45.00.
3. Third: Register a Temporary Officiate: if you don't know someone who can legally marry you (clergy member, Justice of the Peace), and don't feel like explaining why you are doing this for a fourth time (or any other gay-extenuating circumstance) pay the $100 to the Secretary of State's office to temporarily empower a friend to be your wedding officiate. You are supposed to file this within 10 days of the ceremony to assure turn-around. Brittany felt bad about the private attorney thing, however, and assured me she'd keep an eye out for our officiate’s registration (!)
4. Fourth: carefully consider who, if anyone, you invite. Have your prospective guests already attended one of your other weddings? Will they be pleasantly humored by the necessity to repeat this ritual and can you provide them with an attractive venue? (Or will this feel like you are asking for that one toast too many?)
5. Fifth: remember that classy doesn't have to be costly! Consider those little cucumber sandwiches with their crusts trimmed (think fine creamery butter with sea salt, thinly sliced fresh cucumber…), and chilled white wine. (Our '98 "Commitment Ceremony" was a full catered affair. In 2001 we served our Civil Union witnesses pie.) Cost of sandwiches: under $10.00. Wine: your discretion. Add toothpicks with cellophane curls if budget allows.
6. Sign, stamp, and deliver. Congratulations!
Again.
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