You’re just going to have to say it now.
You don’t like the idea of two people being allowed the same civil protections guaranteed you and your wife/husband by our Constitution because Teh Buttsecks freaks you out. Yes, you’re exactly that absurd, and yes, you’re going to have to say that with a vote. You’re going to have to punch a card that says, “I don’t want somebody else to be protected under the law because I have a childish squick and a deeply unhealthy obsession about how other people live their lives.” You’re going to have to pick up your little pen-thing and poke a screen next to the answer that declares that you, Voter, are abigot. End of story. End of argument. End of credibility. End of this fiction that says you’re not really hateful, you’re not really mean, you’re not really what you really, really are. End of it all.
No more weaseling around, no more “well, I’d be fine with Teh Ghey if Rosie O’Donnell would just shut up,” no more “I like gay people fine so long as all they do is decorate my house and don’t shove things down my throat,” no more “why can’t they just leave me alone with their demands for equality and justice, huh, their stupid humanity is pissing me off.” No more.
You’re going to have to admit what you don’t want to admit, which is that you just don’t like gay people. And you’ve lived long enough in this new world of ours to know that bigotry, no matter how good your Republican buds over in the Malkin comments tell you it feels, is a really shitty thing. You know you’re not supposed to want to discriminate, but for the last dozen election cycles or so you’ve had all kinds of code language to hide behind, all kinds of “protect marriage” bullshit to make you feel like you’re not abad person, you’re not like some member of Klan or something, you just want to make our society anice place, like Pleasantville on acid, pretending it’s not about bigotry at all.
Hell, you’ve barely had to mention “gay” or “equal” or “same-sex” or “Constitution” at all as you march around like the Dolores Umbridge of American matrimony, enforcing sweetness and light with your tight little smiles and your euphemisms. You’ve been able to be encouraged to be the asshole that you’ve always wanted to be, because you haven’t had to bemean about it or anything. Well, guess fucking what? That’s done now, that fiction. That served nobody, not even you. And guess fucking what else? That twinge in the back of your throat that makes you uncomfortable with the “harsh language” of that amedment?
THAT’S YOUR GODDAMN CONSCIENCE. Sorry if the heat’s toasting the back of your neck a bit. Get used to it, though, because you’ve cut down all the trees, and there isn’t any shade to hide in anymore.
A.