Pgh Lesbian Correspondents

My spouse chose Groundhogs Day for our wedding so she wouldn’t forget the date. It was a cute comment at the time. Until it wasn’t. 

I never truly thought I would have a wedding day. In part because of marriage inequality, in part because my trauma demons told me I didn’t deserve one. 

But we did and even though she later disrupted the ‘we’, I still hold the day close with fondness. The wedding day didn’t decommit me.

The 2021 day was crisp in a bone chilling way. It was awkward and a bit rote, but we had cider and wedding cake cupcakes and cat cameo rings from Etsy.  Then we all went inside and resumed our COVID era lives.

It’s the only wedding day I’ll have so I determined to salvage it from the wrecking ball of the ‘decommitment’ not to bemoan what I lost, but to remind myself that impossible things can become real, even if not permanent.

I’m in an impossible situation now. I don’t see a path forward post-divorce where I can have affordable, safe housing and the basic necessities. So I take, I demand comfort from what was dear to me. There’s no point dwelling on the shoulda-coulda-wouldas, but there is value in remembering the good.

I had a wedding. The Mayor of Pittsburgh officiated. I mulled cider. The City Paper featured this wedding. There was a fire pit. Oksana (cat) observed. Three friends were there.

The reality that they don’t want to be married to me anymore doesn’t totally negate that once upon a time, they did. I refuse to erase 21 years of a relationship, a partnership building a home and family. 

It was true for a long time. Then we got married. And now we are unmarrying. 

But there was this wedding day in all its untraditional glory. Minus the stress and the trappings, the costs. It was a day grounded in who we were (are?) not what the world told us to be.

I won’t have another wedding. I don’t want another relationship. My focus is on a stable life for me and my cats. And my blog? 

Since I didn’t expect to marry, I certainly didn’t expect to divorce. And I’m not surprised that I failed marriage because trauma foretold that outcome. 

I liked being married. It wasn’t hard for me to switch from ‘partner’ to ‘wife.” While daily life didn’t change, it felt more steady and firm. I was a spouse, I had in-laws, there was new cutlery and pans. The leap from singleton to girlfriend to partner 16 years prior was much bigger, more significant, more challenging. It felt too good to be true. Eventually, it was.

What I remember most from the wedding day is holding mittened hands with my partner and then holding very cold hands as we exchanged rings as wives. 

That’s what I thought we could always count on – facing things together. Neither of us had a great start in life so I assumed we had a pact to make our next chapter imperfectly brilliant, together. Hands clasped, holding on tight.

Groundhog day

In 2021, Punxatawney Phil saw his shadow meaning six more weeks of winter. He was wrong. Estimates generally think Phil is right only 30-50% of the time.

I took a look at the data. Lesbians divorce at higher rates than different sex couples, but lesbians who cohabitate before marriage are less likely to divorce. 

So marrying on Groundhog Day was not an accurate prognosticator of our wedded bliss. 

One might stretch the GH analogy that we are once again cohabitating  (two years in March) while divorcing. Or word play about burrowing? Shadows? Spring? Endless loops? 

On our first wedding anniversary, I bought paper gifts (coloring books.) On our second, I bought another gift. I commissioned a painting ‘Snack time in the meadow of love’ with groundhogs by a local artist. The coloring books are on an end table. The painting still on the wall, like bookends around a couch we rarely use at the same time.

For our third anniversary, while I was homeless, I bought myself a small leather pouch for a compass. On my fourth anniversary, a friend sent me gifts including fruits, flowers, and candy. This year, I decided to go off list and buy myself a new purse from an Indigenous maker on Etsy. It is similar to a bag my spouse bought for me years ago, but bright and bold and spring themes. It looks fresh and new. I won’t have it today, but perhaps that is for the best.

I can look back with wistful sadness without wanting to go back. Forward is my end game now. I have a separate life, bound mainly by house chores and cat care. I’m glad I’m not stuck in a loop, but some of that is because I have yet to process the trauma from the decommitment.

I worry for marriage equality as the shadow of Project 2026 hovers over our community. Domestic partnerships may once again be the only option for couples wanting to solemnize their relationship. That’s a loop we don’t want to perpetually revisit – wondering if marriage equality will stand. We need legislation especially in Pennsylvania to protect our families as they come together and as they fall apart.

What I need is your help with my legal and living expenses. Discovery has officially begun and there are many fees in the weeks and months ahead. Thank you for whatever you can contribute. You can read more here. I don’t know what comes next, but I do know I need your help

• GoFundMe bit.ly/HelpLGBTQBlogger
• Venmo @Pghlesbian
• Paypal.me/Pghlesbian
• CashApp $Pghlesbian
• Zelle sitnscoop@gmail.com

Despite my German heritage, prognostication is overrated.