Confessions of a Gay Weapon of Marital Destruction

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Buttons on display at a rally to celebrate the overturning of Prop 8 in San Francisco

I broke up Al and Tipper Gore. And Sandra Bullock and Jesse James. No, I am not a 50-something masseuse or a tattoo model with a thing for Nazi outfits. I'm just a gay man who's about to celebrate his second wedding anniversary. Apparently, my marriage is a menace. According to the Family Research Council, "Gay marriage threatens the institutions of marriage and the family."

For the past two years, I've tried to deny it. But faced with the prospect of even more finger-pointing in the wake of U.S. District Judge Vaughn Walker's Aug. 4 ruling against California's Prop 8, I've decided to come out and come clean. I'm claiming the pinko-threat label and wearing it with pride, like the Miss California USA tiara that Carrie Prejean wore until someone leaked those eight videos of her touching her pro-opposite-marriage private parts. Yes, I am responsible for the sorry state marriage is in. The Gores' "shocking" split was no surprise to me. Blame me for breaking America's sweetest heart. (I'd like to take credit for Bristol Palin and Levi Johnston's off-again engagement, but honestly, who except Bristol didn't see that coming?) Jenny and Mark "Appalachian Trail" Sanford, Mel and Robyn Gibson, Speidi — I put them all asunder. I'm here. I'm a home wrecker. Get used to it.

I'm an anti-nuclear-family activist. I think I was born this way. Just ask my divorced-after-four-decades parents. I'd been working on them for what seems like a lifetime. Since they unleashed me on state-sanctioned nuptials in 1966, the U.S. divorce rate has nearly doubled. Gay apologists may say the culprit is the rise of no-fault divorce. But this is America, damn it, and someone somewhere must be at fault. That someone is me.

Real Americans agree that I'm dangerous. In "Gathering Storm," an ad produced by the National Organization for Marriage, a paid actress — but no doubt still a real American — with Sue Sylvester's haircut says I want to change the way she lives. Larry "Wide Stance" Craig voted to amend the Constitution to save the nation from my unholy matrimony. The thrice-divorced Rush Limbaugh warned that "gay marriage would destroy the American family." And, of course, what about the children? I am incapable of "providing a safe and secure and emotionally stable environment" for them, said Family Research Council co-founder George "" Rekers.

I must admit, though, that the thrill is fading. It's getting too easy. Larry King is on his eighth shot at wedded bliss, and I've had a pretty good record with the Best Actress Oscar winners. I want to move on to pre-emptive attacks. I should try getting a proposition passed to ban ugly marriages. Surely the state has a legitimate interest in keeping the hideous from going forth, not to mention multiplying, and I'm sure I could get at least 51% of voters to agree with me. Those who say California's gay-marriage ban should stand make a completely logical point: majority rule should always trump minority rights — activist judges and their equal-protection clause be damned. I mean, what the unattractive do behind closed doors is O.K., I guess, but I don't want to have to see it. And I certainly don't want my tax dollars to promote the homely lifestyle.

Or should I just let them be? If two repellent people want to wake up next to each other every morning for the rest of their lives, it might turn my stomach, but is it really any of my business? It must be hard enough for them to get through the day — there are reflective surfaces everywhere — without having the federal government against them. Allowing dog-faced marriage doesn't mean I love my husband any less, and banning unsightly unions wouldn't give me a better chance at till death do us part. So relax, ugly people; you're free to pursue happiness with the appearance-challenged person of your choice. Love is love, after all, and that's beautiful enough.