Marriage Registration

. 2 min read . Written by Kuba Vitek
Marriage Registration

My official population registry extract very literally declares I've been single since the date of my birth. Over here in France, this is hilariously called a Certificate of Celibacy and it indicates that you're indeed legally ready to become the least single you've ever been.

Almost a year of paperwork and a multitude of interventions from multitudes of guardian angels later ... we finally have a date!

Too real and raw in regards to the whole bureaucracy PTSD, I can't even start going into the details of what it takes for two men of different nationalities to get married, but with all the admin hurdles left behind now, I choose to focus on gratitude for living in times when this union in face of law is actually possible, albeit at the prize of one's sanity.

When we submitted our last round of documents at Buxerolles town hall (that I for longest time thought to be the world's ugliest hotel because in France town halls are called Hotel de Ville), we naturally texted our mums first, because no matter the level of your cool, you always want to share the big life achievements with your parents first, right?

Knowing full well we worked on this for the past year, my mum still replied with: Are you sure this is what both of you want? David felt bad for me for about four minutes, before his own mum sent the exact same message with just a little addition: I hope you don't feel forced into doing this. One would think that almost 40 years of doing life and 8 years of doing it together, we'd warrant some belief in our mental capacities to make decisions. And that's exactly why historically, in order to survive queer people relied on finding their own chosen family. To witness, honor and celebrate the big life decisions that spark our soul in spite and regardless our parents fixations on what path our life should be taking. In the world where there are still parents who tie their queer kids to plastic chairs and kick them off a high rise building roof (I'm looking at you Middle East), our mums might be savage but they always come from a place of love. We are two lucky boys. And today with a little extra spring in our step.

Back to the French Alps to finish our winter season gig and then off to writing an exciting next chapter, new names, new home, same love.