Let’s Be a Gay Marriage!

I’m the GoFundMe request for ridiculous luxuries

I’m the skid marks in both of the grooms’ underwear’s.

I’m the uncomfortable uncle with a flask in my coat pocket.

I'm the cubefraus who want to throw you a shower and we are all DYING for an invitation.

I’m the dumb relative that asks if you are the bride or the groom

I'm the two years that most of the guests are giving it.

I'm the who gives a fuck about marriage.

I'm the mail-order minister.

We’re Dot and Pat, the lesbian couple that brought a picnic basket filled with random boxes of candy as a wedding gift.

We’re the lesbian couple getting married - one of us will be wearing a wedding dress and the other will be in a tuxedo. ALWAYS

I’m the Liza impersonator, who will be officiating the ceremony.

I'm the dog coming down the aisle with the rings.

I'm the tight grin and the crossed fingers at the blood test.

I'm the former rights you had under Obama....enjoy your second class citizenship in 2020

I'm the Best Tran!

I'm the father of the bottom. I'll be paying for the wedding.

I’m the altar pond with real swans—and a trellis-covered bridge going across it where the couple will exchange their vows 🦢 🦢

I’m the stripper from the bachelor party. I had the last three way with the couple.

I'm the all-Madonna playlist at the reception.

I'm R20, I'm busy slapping the shit out of R2.

We're the four guys from the gay chorus singing an a capella version of Savage Garden's "Truly Madly Deeply".

I'm the alimony the responsible one is going to have to pay the flighty bur cute idiot in oh, about three years. You wanted rights? Well there's a lot that goes along with that, bitches.

I'm Aunt Helga wondering how a marriage between two bottoms is going to last.

I'm the mother of the bottom, dodging the photographer.

I’m intricate wedding dance to be performed at the reception. The wedding party has been attending special classes with a professional choreographer for the last six months to make sure it’s perfect.

I'm the Chinese girl who had do all the calligraphy on the invitations by hand. I was paid 86 cents per invitation.

I’m the 80 year-old groom that came out last week who is marrying a 25 year old who just arrived from the Ukraine. Because it’s never too late for true love.

I'm the straight brother of the bottom, feeling slightly uncomfortable and making inappropriate remarks to the lesbian best friend of the bottom.

I’m the gay for pay male stripper who only wants to flirt with the women in attendance, even though most of them are lesbians.

I'm the presidential candidate

I’m the hot Brazilian escort hired to attend the wedding so the bottom’s out of town guests thinks he has hot friends.

I'm the bottom's brother and also a pit bull of a divorce lawyer. I'm wondering how much of a discount I'll have to give my brother in a couple of years.

I’m the guest that knows that the couple getting married REALLY met each other at the tubs one Saturday night at 3 am.—not on the deck of a cruise ship during a romantic sunset, like they’ve been telling everyone. 🤫

I'm the game night that turns into a full on orgy.

I’m the 30 minute long pledge of love both grooms have memorized to recite to each other before exchanging rings.

I’m the flock of swans released at the reception

I'm all the bottoms that have to make the day entirely about Donald Trump. "Glad we're getting married now. Under a President Trump in 2020 we'll be in camps."

^above. "Cubefraus". Love it.

I'm the sartorial flair of, say, bright pink socks or funky cufflinks, under a well-tailored tuxedo.

What will be the wedding song selected by the couple for their first dance at the reception? Here’s the first one up for consideration:

I'm the toast done in Arabic to show or solidarity with our Muslim brethren who are also being oppressed in this dying democracy of ours.

R41 the couple with have everyone join together in a collective tongue trill as a symbolic tribute!

I'm the Supreme Court Justice officiating at the marriage of two rapists.

I'm one of the rainbow adopted children who wonders if I'm going to be wanted when I'm no longer cute enough for photo ops and just a pain in the ass teen. Hell I'm still a toddler and don't give it more than 2 years.

I’m the lesbian couple that made a donation to the Bernie Sanders campaign in lieu of a wedding gift.

I'm the asshole who always has to be present to piss people off that refers to marriage as "marriage" when it's a straight couple, and "gay marriage" when it's two men who have been married even though it's just a "marriage" or "wedding" regardless of the sexes of the two people being married. I also weirdly say "gay wedding" even though the wedding is not a male human that is into other male humans, or "lesbian wedding" even though the wedding is not a female human into other female humans, because I'm fucking slow and can't wrap my petite little brain around the concept of how marriage and weddings work. Sometimes I am so stupid I actually say "gay married" instead of "married", because I need that much help.

I'm the anal retentive friend in charge of the gift table.

I'm the Golden Girls Box Set on the gift table.

I'm the ass of the banquet waiter one of the grooms is already checking out.

I’m the douchebros crashing the f-g wedding for the free alcohol. Hope you like mimosas and appletinis!

I’m the DLer in attendance that finds a punctuation error on the menus at the reception..

I’m the self-loathing DLer who’ll never know love.

I’m the surrogate who is already pregnant by one of the grooms via AI.

I'm the straight white friend who thinks he's being inclusive by shimmying sideways across the dancefloor like MC Hammer when the DJ plays "You Can't Touch This" at the reception.

I'm Roseanne, before I went all right-wing. Sure, have your wedding on my show. It's cool.

We're the mothers of each of the grooms, sitting in the front pews across the aisle from one another, each of us feigning to be totally accepting that our son is marrying another man, and each of us trying suppress thoughts of tonight's consummation of the marriage; oh the horror!

I’m a drunk grandfather asking a lesbian couple if they visit their homeland, the Isle of Lesbos, on a regular basis.

I’m the groom that secretly wishes he could’ve worn a bridal gown on his (her?) special day.

I'm the confused grandmother.

I'm the tired ass EVERYTHING!

I’m the wedding cake. Because subtlety is everything.

I’m the straight brothers forcing a smile and trying not to puke when the couple kisses.

I’m the straight brother in R62 and this song keeps going through my head because I think it’s all a farce.

I'm the 16 year old nephew that will be posted about later on Datalounge.

I'm the 6 year old trans flower boy. I started to transition at 3. My parents are so supportive, they let me change my pronouns.

I'm the rejected gay wedding cake topper picked out by the five-year old niece.

I’m the cousin that yells this in the middle of the dance floor after performing a one-man Michael Jackson dance tribute..

I'm the intense "discussion" between both grooms and the gay wedding planner the morning of the ceremony. I end in a passive aggressive huff, just like our drunken, failed threesome six months ago.

I'm the cockrings the grooms exchanged the night before. They are now wearing them beneath their tuxedos.

Surely you meant "Lets Be a Gay Wedding"? The replies reflect it.

I'm the ten pounds the bride get to regain on the cruise.

I'm the five year old son of a distant cousin who loudly announces during the ceremony "Hey! Two mens can't get married!"*

*this actually happened, it was hilarious

I'm the Christian baker who made the wedding cake but didn't want to because it stands for everything I'm against. But I didn't want the threat of a lawsuit and the bad publicity so I made the goddamn cake and they'll never know my revenge was so sweet. So to speak.

The wedding party dance at the reception will be a faithful re-creation of this performance.

The “tragedy” is all slutty still-single gay men who refuse to accept marriage and monogamy as the only legitimate way to live.

I'm the bickerfest over colour swatches for the custom-made settee.

I'm the 17 year old who will change this marriage to "open" about 19 months from now.

We’ve chosen blush and bashful for our ceremony since pink is our signature color.

I'm the groom who has been up since 6.30am on his wedding day to micromanage the placing and fine tuning of the decorations in the hotel function, a room which will only be used for the 20 minute duration of the ceremony.

We are the confetti canons, fired at the grooms as they reached the head of the aisle. The confetti bombs skirted the couple but left the celebrant, plus the official paperwork to be signed, covered in a nuclear fallout coating of confetti for the duration of the ceremony.

I'm the divorcing couple who got married in 10 states to make a point and just discovered that it's impossible to divorce in most of them without establishing residency.

I’m Aunt Rose. I was invited because I’m family so you sort of have to.

You’ll see just the slightest hint of a snarl on my lips as I sit watching this hokum.

I'm the date of one of the grooms' long-term ex. I thought it would be "funny" to go to to a wedding on a first date but now that said ex is introducing me to select acquaintances as a person he's "dating" I'm not laughing. I just keep smiling and looking forward to getting the hell out of here. It's the last time the ex will see me, and the last time anyone at the wedding will see either of us.

I'm the wedding planner. I live to serve!

I’m all the passive-aggressive behavior once sexual boredom sets in.

I'm the thousands and thousands and thousands of dollars that should've been put in a secure investment account instead. Fucking idiots.

I'm Baronelle, a cunt florist from Washington State refusing to sell flowers to celebrate a same sex union. Even though the grooms were supposedly my friends, Jesus said in the bible there shouldn't be gay weddings. Which is not exactly in the bible, but it's the only thing I cherry pick. It makes not a lick of sense but I'm going to hold my ground and become a martyr over it!

I’m the song “YMCA.” You know damn well I’ll make an appearance.

We're the approximately 347 men at the wedding who fucked either one of the grooms or both of the grooms at one time or another. At the exchanging of vows, we're all thinking back to when we fucked them.

I'm the check mark you make next to the box "Get Gay Married" on your Presidential campaign To-Do list.

I'm Aunt Gertrude from Connecticut. I'm all for the boys getting married. I just think they should have done the Justice of the Peace thing. All this money should have been spent on a new washer and dryer and a top of the line Electrolux vacuum. Those vacuums will last 15 years longer than this marriage.

I'm the grooms who both secretly anticipate looking askance at their single friends in the coming months. Smug superiority will be ours at last! We are superior! We are legitimate! We are MARRIED! And you, YOU, are NOT!

I'm the Facebook relationship status that will be updated post-haste.

I'm one of the groom's friends from college who became a Universal Life minister in order to officiate at this event.

I'm a Russian bot.

I’m the cosplay marriage photo in superhero costumes that will eventually be used to entice hot 20 year olds to participate in the somewhat-open relationship olympics. Coming soon! 💦

I'm the double-fisted bouquet toss.

I’m the indisputable reality that men belong with men and women belong with women.

We’re all those who suffered under the lies of heterosexual “marriage” who would have been happier in same-sex marriages.

I'm the wedding mints!

I'm your quite sweet relatives rolling their eyes in the parking lot as they leave the reception.

We're the people needing R99 's mints after we throw up in the parking lot over the goddam cheesiness of this lackluster charade.

I'm wondering why so many on this thread are unreasonably pessimistic & cynical. We should only think the very best thoughts for those who've made the commitment to marry and to love & cherish each other forever. Look at Mayor Pete and Chasten as ideals.

I'm R102 Uninvited, sitting at home, trying to make lemonade out of all of it.

Get the stick out, r102. It’s all in good fun.