On Marriage, Part 1: Log Home

So I grew up Christian
When I went off to college I was excited because I figured I’d probably meet my future husband there
I didn’t actually picture myself, no idea what I was wearing,
He was all balled out for the wedding, tux and all that, tall and smiling, arms spread, and when he kissed me
Well, I was in a blizzard, screaming wind, whitewash of snow,
ice from everywhere at my face, so much ice at my face,
and as he pulled me, there was a cabin,
all logs and solid, smoke out the chimney,
and he caught my eyes and the door opened, – was it real? –
his lips – yes, inside, so quiet,
his tongue – safe,
and the fire, the heat
I knew exactly what it would feel like, this kiss
This haven in all the unknown
This house would be here
Log homes last forever
Those lips would always
Reach for me
The heat would always
Laugh away the snow

I’d been taught that was the marriage kiss
Only marriage
Taught that other kisses would come along, playing to be the log home
And they’d be Lincoln logs, just teaching you, feeling sturdy but always falling apart
And when you found the person who built a real log home for you
Your kiss at the altar, and the dance floor, and especially your marriage bed,
That was when they brought you in
Into safety
You’ll never have to prove yourself again
Who you are is validated,
they’re grateful for the things you do, for who are you, you matter
you’re always hot.
Burning hot
Fucking beautiful
So I get it
I get why people want that
Back then I didn’t know that any log home built like that is coated in gasoline

What if your log home only has room for two of you,
And one day you come home,
And find someone else in your bed?
Over half of this country’s log homes burn down.
But there’s something so appealing about living in a wooden house
That’s coated in gasoline.
It feels so James Bond, right?
You’re never happier that he’s alive
Than after he’s back-flipped, jumped a couple rooftops, slipped between three dozen bullets
That marriage kiss makes you a champion because
Everything says your logs should be roaring red and they’re not,
And they’ll never be, and you’re lucky as hell,
Because you found the ONE person in the WORLD
Who won’t ever strike a match
It feels AMAZING!
And gay people deserve this too, right?


This is some bullshit!
I don’t want a relationship that’s meaningful because of what hasn’t happened
I know lots of married people who say
they’ve got friends who are amazing scarves, hats, mittens –
They’ve got buddies in snow caves who make a mean hot chocolate
I’m from Minnesota, I love winter
Hats and scarves make all the difference
But I’m really not seeing why we don’t just build log homes we can all fit in
Skip the gasoline
I want a home that’s made of life lovers, friends, co-parents, family,
all kinds of life partners
What would that home look like? How do we build that?


Published by kris gebhard

Kris (pronouns they/them) is a clinical psychologist, poet, percussionist, and gardener currently residing in Chicago, IL.

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