Ben and I went to a college where the professors, students, banisters, and water fountains were all queer, trans, and non-gendered. We were the only two cis-gendered straight people there, and we actively petitioned against their right to marry, adopt, own dogs, or sing in postmodern barbershop quartets. I knew he was the one for me when he asked me to help ban veganism in public spaces in his hometown of Skinny Jeans, Oregon.
A lot of people we’ve paid will ask us, “what was the first big romantic gesture Ben made?” Well, it came just after I asked my father to give Ben a job managing a hedge fund that refuses to work with clients of color. To thank me, Ben drove business away from a local feminist bookstore, gutted it, and let me turn it into a bakery. It’s called John Wilkes Creme Booth Lay (after our idol), and we specifically make desserts that look like common objects, but you have to believe angels don’t protect Antifa supporters in order to buy one. The way Ben and I are always on the same page, and that page is all about making money for us, and taking money away from others, is the truest sign that we’re made for each other.
When my mom sensed that Ben was going to stay around, she told me the key to true love is to keep the home fires burning. We’ve done this not by just burning down public housing buildings for fun, but also by having an active romantic life. For example, we make love by having a close friend kick the bottom of the bed so Ben “rocks me like a hurricane.” We’re not Mormon, but we’re hoping they’ll notice this effort and invite us to join. We also take a bath together every night while we whisper sweet nothings while surrounded by candles.Mostly we whisper about our belief that the French accent is a curse that only a spell can break, and hope the candles amplify our prayer to cure it.
When it came time to propose, I knew I only wanted to wear a ring stolen from the corpse of a conservative debutante. Bless him, but Ben seduced the graveyard’s security chap with an elaborate silk dance, killed him, and dug until dawn. He pilfered the jewlery – a large pearl brooch haphazardly turned into a ring ugly as the day is long – moved the security guard to the site, wiped the prints, and took off in his usual evening attire, a caped tuxedo and a bandit mask. The story on the news that night was the most watched segment of the week! It’s truly a regret that we didn’t deliver the tape to our local news station so that we could profit from our own crime. Oh wait, we did!
We wanted a Western theme for our engagement photos because we were hoping the corpses of dead cowboys would rise from the dead to reclaim the country for the real president. We of course mean that hottie with a body-ody-ody Woodrow Wilson. Despite being thrown out of every poly co-op we’ve tried to join, we’ve been looking to have a vee relationship, and that segregating daddy can get it if he’ll just fucking grow a pair and punch his way out of the ground!
We can’t wait for you to join us in celebrating our eternal love. As you know, we’re big pop culture nerds, and couldn’t resist a little bit of glamour on our special day. We’re pleased to tell you the wedding will be held in Iceland at the exact same iceberg where Jared Leto made all the local extras wait, without food or warmth, until he decided to show up hours later to start the 30 Seconds to Mars music video shoot. Taking a cue from Leto, we’ll be asking you all to arrive at 4 p.m., but the wedding won’t start until maybe ten at the earliest. Attached are NDAs in case you get hypothermia!
