I'll do it myself

Ann is a very even keeled woman. She rarely gets riled. She can stay calm in the most emotional of storms and I've never seen her react out of anger.

But don't let this fool you. She has a stubborn streak about as wide as the current political divide in the Republican party. Take this morning for instance:

She's getting ready to leave for work. She's riding the scooter since the day promises dry streets and no rain. On the scooter, she wears her red motorcycle jacket and looks adorable. But today, while she was putting on the coat, the collar got curled under and the Velcro made the collar stick into its stuck position. "Can I help?" I asked.

"No, I've got it," she said, struggling.

Early in our relationship, I'd just jump in and uncurl the dilemma for her, but after numerous occasions when she snipped at me to let her do it, I've learned to back off.

This is just one little example, but I can list countless times when she refuses any help with cooking, cleaning, organizing, yard work, carpentry, and on and on. She is independent in all endeavors and any assistance is not viewed as help, but as interference in her quest to be independent.

I've had to learn what this means. At first, I thought she was rebuking me. I walked away with hurt feelings. Then I thought it was more a reflection of her upbringing -- with an out of balance mother and a distant father, she literally had to do it all herself. Now, I'm not sure what it's about. "It's just a collar," I thought to myself this morning, but to her, it's clearly a lot more than that.

Marriage is far more than approval by the state. The example of Ann's independence is just one reason why I'm not sure how I feel about the recent passage of Prop 8 in California. So many of my friends are angry and outraged, stomping around with their hands in the air. "We are being treating like second-class citizens!" they complain and while I agree, I don't find myself in such a stitch about it all.

"It will happen," I hear myself say and then I remind them of how we never thought this discussion would ever even happen in our lifetimes. "People's perceptions don't change just because we're talking about gay marriage," I argue. "It has to be discussed and dissected a bazillion times before we edge into acceptable."

This appeases no one.

But then I think about my "marriage," which isn't legal in the eyes of Washington State, but is still very much a marriage. In a marriage, there are fewer exit doors (or, at least, there are for me). It's about expanding who you are to accept who they are including all the idiosyncrasies like a I'll-do-it-myself attitude. God knows, Ann's had to accept my eccentricities. I'm not easy to live with by any stretch of the imagination.

Sure, there are legal ramifications that only the state stamp of approval can truly offer, but the day-to-day dance of understanding each other requires the right music, not a marriage certificate. Over the years, I've learned to let Ann do whatever she needs to do without butting in, though I'll admit that sometimes I forget and we tussle -- I try to help, she refuses, I feel hurt, she feels frustrated, I share my feelings, she tries to understand, and on and on until we come back to one truth -- this is a marriage of love and commitment. For us, there are no exit doors so we must reenter and open ourselves to the understanding that we are who we are -- flawed individuals, but perfect for each other.