When Ammon and I became a couple, I know there was one aspect of our relationship that was completely unlike any aspect of a straight couple I had yet met and, more importantly, still have not met. We wear the exact same size clothing. I'm not kidding. Pant size, shoe size, hat size, shirt size. Although some of them fit him better than me at the moment. I'm working on it. I've lost five pounds so I can keep order to my universe.
This has spawned several problems. The first of which being, what we have dubbed "tweedle dee" syndrome. Without having a clue of what the other is wearing, we often end up in almost the exact same outfit. We are then immediately embarrassed to be seen with the other one.
"Oh, God! Didn't you see me leave this morning?!"
"No! I was sleeping!"
"Well, who's going home to change?!"
"Fine. I'll go home and change."
Guess who is who in this scenario? I'll give you a hint: I'm the asshole (usually).
But the other major problem this has caused is serious territory disputes. I have no doubt that straight people have territory disputes. How could you not? Nothing prepares you for suddenly having to divy up half of your possessions on the hunch that this person isn't going to seriously screw you over? I trust Ammon with my life, and do. That's why we're married. Practically, thank you Maine...but don't worry, in 2012 it's on. But I digress. I trust him, but isn't that part of the gamble we make in couples? Giving up half our shit?
Now imagine the typical straight couple giving all that up, combined with the fact that, because of our unique size (and gender) match, I don't even have any of my own clothes anymore. All of it is shared. From the house to the underwear, folks. Naturally, being the asshole, I was the one that finally flipped out. It was my UMaine Sweatpants. They are the most comfortable and wonderful of all sweatpants. Not to mention they are UMaine, and I love anything associated with Maine.
So one day I came home, right, and had a really abysmal day of teaching. I came home expecting to crawl into my sweatpants and Ammon was in them........ It got intense. I slept on the floor in the other room. I'm not sure, I'll have to clarify with Ammon, but I'm almost positive it was our first blow-out fight. Over sweatpants. Yes. This happened. I'd had enough of suddenly having to share all the things I had earned with my own hard work.
Obviously, we got over it. We have since moved three times together and the last one was buying our home together. I have literally nothing that is just mine anymore and it feels...quite honestly, awesome. Remembering these anomalies of our relationship reminds me why I fight so hard. I don't need a religious marriage to legitimize my relationship. What I will have is a legal marriage that protects what is already legitimized. If that doesn't represent someone's values about marriage, then they should get married at a church, where I don't need to (or I guess can't) get married.
What I have is weird. Beyond the fact that I'm married to a dude, I've lost my clothes. How many other couples would honestly have to fight about who would take what pair of pants? My guess is not many. It's the weirdness that makes me realize how blessed I am and how much I will fight to protect it. Ammon is, down to the last sock, my other half. We have the same (every)things and want all the same things for our future. We're not going anywhere, and if we did, you'd be sad. Because, well, we're just nice people. Of course unless you f*** with Ammon or my sweatpants (Ammon, this includes you).