As the wedding is underway at my only aunt and uncle’s house in the Hamptons, getting dressed up gets harder and harder. “We don’t have time to dress up,” says my girlfriend. “Isn’t this wedding kind of boring?”
As a gay man marrying a straight woman in an all-white wedding, I need to look my part. I need to represent. And since we’re not legally married, we’re not allowed to wear an accurate suit. I don’t want to go to the beach in a suit I’d buy from Target. Just look at me — no face! Worst of all, my primary function in this wedding is to dance with my future wife, which I know is impossible. I make an effort with my tie. I make an effort with my beard. I wear jeans. But I’m tired. I’m anxious to go home.
A friend calls, and she’s fun, but she can’t pay for all my rent and anything else that’s not mentioned here. At least she’s helping out! The night takes a turn. My girlfriend and I end up at the Halloween party, and I finally realize I should put on some shoes, put on my suit, and go home.
But things aren’t quite that simple. At the Halloween party, Anxious to Go Home isn’t alone; he has only one good friend and I know that friend is gay. And so, along with my girlfriend, we dance, we laugh, we celebrate. The rest of the night is… amusing, until Anxious to Go Home starts to get really bad. The more he dances, the more he talks about love and shoes. The more he gets tired, the more he gets more agitated. And eventually, more and more people start to join us.
A highlight is when — before we start dancing — my girlfriend talks about how happy she is. And her happiness sends Anxious to a different place.
Eventually the night ends, the sun comes up, and we all get in our cars. My girlfriend and I drive my girlfriend home and drive back into the Hamptons. And right then, one of the worst nightmare scenarios comes true: Anxious to Go Home will never be gay. I know now, after that night, that he’s not going to be gay. And that’s a bummer.