Best Brunch

Best Brunch

Best of SA 2013: 4/24/2013
Chris Pérez, Selena’s Husband, Faces His Past and Looks Forward, Musically

Chris Pérez, Selena’s Husband, Faces His Past and Looks Forward, Musically

Music: Chris Pérez never saw it coming. “All I ever wanted to do was play guitar,” he told the Current. “I never thought I’d be the subject of an interview... By Enrique Lopetegui 8/28/2013
Beaches Be Trippin\': Five Texas Coast Spots Worth the Drive

Beaches Be Trippin': Five Texas Coast Spots Worth the Drive

Arts & Culture: Let’s face it, most of us Lone Stars view the Texas coast as a poor man’s Waikiki. Hell, maybe just a poor man’s Panama Beach — only to be used... By Callie Enlow 7/10/2013
Chris Perez, husband of slain Tejana icon Selena, tells of romance, suffering

Chris Perez, husband of slain Tejana icon Selena, tells of romance, suffering

Arts & Culture: In one of the final chapters of his book To Selena, With Love (out March 6), Selena's widower Chris Perez mentions that Abraham Quintanilla, his former father-in-law, once... By Enrique Lopetegui 3/7/2012
Lt. Governor Race: the \'Luchadora\' vs. the Tea Party radio host

Lt. Governor Race: the 'Luchadora' vs. the Tea Party radio host

News: A few Saturdays ago, I spent several hours hanging around a Texas Realtors Association conference in San Antonio, trying to catch state Sen. Dan Patrick... By Alexa Garcia-Ditta 9/17/2014

Search hundreds of restaurants in our database.

Search hundreds of clubs in our database.

Follow us on Instagram @sacurrent

Print Email


'Til Death Do Us Part...

Photo: , License: N/A

Photo: , License: N/A

This is simply not true. I’ve been there, and I’ve gone through it. Alan and I had executed all of the estate-planning mechanisms open to gay couples. I even (somewhat smugly) recorded the process we went through in these pages six years ago [“Keep your matrimony, I’ve got mantrimony,” Oct. 4, 2007]. But as I’ve discovered over the past year, you can’t write yourself into fairness with a notary and some boilerplate documents. These stopgaps don’t add up to real protection, and the undue burden of legal fees and paper chases is patently unfair.

As prior generations learned in other contexts, separate but equal isn’t.

In the abstract, I could comfort myself with the knowledge that time is on my side, that in a generation or two, those who’ve deemed my love for Alan less worthy of legal standing than different-sex relationships will have ended up on the wrong side of history. But here and now, laws have consequences. I lived those consequences, and I struggle to find any comfort.

Nobody likes to talk about death – how ugly it is, how it doesn’t comport with the common parlance of love and life – but given the inherent unfairness that I and countless others have faced, I need to.

I met Alan on Super Bowl Sunday in January 2001 at the corner of the pool bar at the Parliament House. He commented on my eyes, then on his own. “Who do you think has prettier eyes?” he joked. He was a charmer who looked like a black-and-white film star and talked like John Wayne. We started holding hands under the bar after talking for two hours.

After a year of playfully awkward courtship, in May 2002, we moved in together downtown. We shared the bills and opened joint accounts. We formed a life together, having friends around for backyard parties, allowing our outwardly opposing personalities to form a broader united front of happiness.

We were the most conventional of unconventional couples, fighting the normal fights about politics and money, but boosters for each other nonetheless. It was Alan who insisted that I run for interim mayor of Orlando in 2005. He was my campaign treasurer, my coach, my biggest fan.

We used to talk about retiring in Costa Rica – at one point we even put some money down on land there – and we would regularly head to New Orleans so that he could gamble and I could drink (Alan, for most of our relationship, did not drink). But mostly, we lived a quiet life, watching Britcoms on Saturday nights and taking afternoon naps. We were incredibly happy.

On holidays, my family would occasionally visit and take us out to dinner; they seemed to like Alan more than me, really. I always tried to pressure Alan into introducing me to his family in Georgia. But, for reasons likely to do with my gender and his shame – he told me once that he’d undergone reparative therapy to “cure” him of being gay at some point in his childhood – it wasn’t feasible, and I relented. Alan loved his mother deeply. He didn’t want to hurt her. I hated being thought of as something that could hurt her just by existing, but life isn’t always what we want it to be. So he would continue to live a double life.

Recently in News
We welcome user discussion on our site, under the following guidelines:

To comment you must first create a profile and sign-in with a verified DISQUS account or social network ID. Sign up here.

Comments in violation of the rules will be denied, and repeat violators will be banned. Please help police the community by flagging offensive comments for our moderators to review. By posting a comment, you agree to our full terms and conditions. Click here to read terms and conditions.
comments powered by Disqus