To say one’s love publicly is a privilege rarely given, and I am grateful for this one. I am grateful to all of you who have come to bear witness and grateful too to many who are not here, but nevertheless helped shape this moment.
To my friends and family here assembled I want to say that I have already learned much from Janet, from small things — how to ask someone for money without embarrassment, and the value of directness; some large — how to keep a relationship moving along, and the importance of space. Some lessons were huge — how to have a relationship with my Higher Power. And, most important, Janet showed me the way to CoDA, which was the most important turning point in my life.
To Janet I want to say, again, that you are my friend and lover, the sister I never had, the daughter I never will, the mother I only partly had, all the women I have known and loved. You are all women. I feel therefore that I can, with you, be any man, or boy.
I admire many things in you: humor, intelligence, beauty, frankness, and discretion. But more than anything I admire the gracious ease and simplicity with which you deal with people.
I am happy about many things in our relationship, but foremost that there is always change and growth, movement out of an unshared past into a shared future. I celebrate our present, remember our past, and look forward to our future.
As for the part about love, honor, and obey — I love you as the gull’s wing loves the wind, and it would be superfluous to promise what is a collusion of nature. I honor and respect you now in every way (except perhaps your driving) and cannot imagine it changing for any reason, so I will gladly promise that. But I do not want to obey you, so I cannot promise that, although I will gladly think about it each time.
These are the vows I want to make to you:
To take care of myself first so that I can be there for you.
To try always to be as honest as possible with you and with myself.
To try always not to become boring, but to seize the moment for laughter and play.
To do my share of the things that need to be done.
To say “no” as loudly as I can, when “no” is what I mean.
To listen, both with heart and mind, to what you say and do not say.
To cast aside my overly developed sense of dignity whenever I can.
To show you my strength, as Mariah says, even roaring if necessary, although I reserve the right to roll my eyes.This is my solemn vow.
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