I'm waiting in the arrivals lounge at Hartsfield-Jackson International Airport. It's just after eight in the morning, and the light streaming through the atrium gives the building a feeling of energy strangely unmatched by any of the people in it. I appear to be watching the floor, white tile speckled with black detritus from countless feet that have walked here before, but I'm actually watching the tops of the escalators for Matt's face. Any minute now, just be patient. Occasionally, I turn around to look at the arrival monitors. His flight supposedly hasn't landed yet, but still I hope that he'll be among the next batch of people coming up from the belly of the airport to see the light of this brand new day. I see a woman – tall, athletic, blonde hair, blue eyes – hugging what looks to be her younger sister as if they hadn't seen each other in ages. I see another young woman greet a much older man that I can only assume is her father. He is in a wheelchair, but the spark in his eye when he sees his daughter is unmistakable. There is a woman next to me wearing way too much perfume. It's very distracting and I can't help but notice that she's reading a Danielle Steel novel that's been much abused. And the girl behind her in the tube top must be her daughter.  I notice that she is wearing too much lipstick.

I see a man in an Army uniform come off the escalator. His daughter races from behind the yellow line; he hoists her to him and puts his arms around her tight. I assume that this is the first time they have seen each other in years. The girl is crying; her father is crying; her grandmother and the USO people are crying. I'm holding back my own tears. I know exactly how you feel, little one. The night before he left for duty, he told her he would be home soon. Every time he called home, she asked him when he'd be coming back. Every night for the last month, she couldn't sleep because she knew that tomorrow would be one day closer to the day he would hold her close again. He's still in uniform. Somehow I doubt this is a discharge. He has to go back again soon and he knows this. No, David, no, no sad thoughts right now. You need to stay happy right now.

I turn away to give this family some much needed privacy and concentrate on the arrivals board. It's twenty after the hour and Matt's plane will be arriving any second. When the line for his flight starts blinking, I feel like my heart can finally start beating again. He's here. He appears on the escalator a scant five minutes later, and everything else in the universe suddenly ceases to exist. There is no floor, there are no USO people, there is no lady standing next to me with too much perfume; there is only Matt. I push through people to get to the front of the cordoned-off waiting area, and he finally sees me and starts coming toward me. We hug for a moment and share a kiss that is all too brief – after all, we are in public. I let the taste of his mouthwash linger on my lips for a few seconds before we begin our trek to leave the airport.

We're driving now, on our way to the trendy Midtown hotel he has reserved for our weekend together. I see the road winding away ahead of me, but I'm only halfway paying attention. I've driven these streets for years and I know where I'm going – all I care about is him. I listen to him describe his job and how much he has missed me since we last saw each other. I can tell that he has been anticipating this weekend for a long time, but he also seems distant somehow, like perhaps there's something he isn't telling me. No, that can't be it. Or maybe that's exactly it: he doesn't want to wait for you any longer. No, better: he has met someone else, and he's leaving you for him. No, even better than that: he just doesn't like you anymore, and he's dumping you. I let the bad thoughts melt away in the warm light that glints off the Atlanta skyline. Of course he wants to be with me – he flew here to spend the weekend with me.

As the morning light gives way to a late spring afternoon, we find ourselves in a museum exhibition devoted to the human body. A vast complex of the macabre sprawls out around us, complete with blood, guts, muscle fibers, and grotesquely modified human faces left uncovered by some arcane scientific process that endlessly fascinates us. "But how did he get that polymer inside all the tiny veins without rupturing them," I wonder aloud. Matt doesn't know, but he's just as intrigued as I am.

He calls me over to look at an exposed nervous system. I have trouble imagining all of those white fibers running through my body, connecting all of my bits with all of my other bits. Matt says he's never even thought about his own body like this, with all of the parts on display for everyone to see. I use this opportunity to make an indecent remark about wanting to see him exposed and on display for me to see and he chuckles. I grab his hand for a while as we walk through the exhibit. I think about that exposed nervous system and imagine my fingers touching his and the electrical impulses travelling from my fingers, up my arm, through the bundle of nerves at the shoulder, on through the nervous system's superhighway at the base of the neck, and into my brain. I realize that he's feeling the same impulses I'm feeling. As I squeeze his hand and smile to myself as I imagine electrons flowing from my brain into his, I wonder if his thoughts are anything like mine.

It's later at night now, the late spring sun having just faded into a murky darkness that does not betray the presence of stars. The halo of the city lights still slouches at the edges of the darkness, a constant reminder that we've hit the big time here, even if it's only for the weekend. We are sitting in our hotel room, eating delivered Pad Thai together while the television endlessly babbles on about things unimportant. Matt seems nervous. He isn't saying much, and he's eating less. I have long since ceased being worried, but I am wracking my brain trying to figure out what is making him so nervous.

"Sweetie, I have a surprise for you." The words come out of nowhere; Matt has been so quiet all night that at first I didn't realize it was him. "Close your eyes." I do so and feel very uncomfortable. I hear him rustling with something in the other room before he comes back. I'm sitting on the couch, so it is strange to hear him in front of me.

"Honey, we've been together for a while now. And I know it's been difficult being apart like we've been, but I love you and I know you love me. So let's make it official."

Stunned, I open my eyes. He is before me on one knee, a box containing a silver and orange ring in his outstretched palm. I am shocked, speechless. He is visibly shaking and probably near tears. I try to summon the words and fail the first time, but I finally manage to choke the words out of my quavering throat. "Yes, honey, yes, yes." I am stammering, but neither of us cares. He puts the ring on my finger and I ask him where his is. He tells me that he only bought one, apparently in case I said no. That way he would not have to buy a second one for himself if he didn't have to. I hooked a smart one here. I hold him close for the next few minutes and I realize that this may be the single greatest thing that has ever happened to me.

It's two in the morning. Matt is asleep on the bed next to me as I listen to the sound of cars on the streets below. I hear his deep, slumbering breaths and feel the warmth of his body. I can't sleep. I can't quite put my thoughts together in any kind of a coherent way. Of all the men in the entire world, he chose me. I guess you did it. He does love you after all. Now don't fuck it up. I turn on my side and face his back. I put my arm around his midsection and I feel at peace with the world for the first time in ages. Of course, you do know this means nothing. It's not like you can get married here anyway. All in due time, little voice, all in due time. For right now I am going to go to sleep next to the man I love. We don't have to live by their rules. When the end of the universe comes and everything that is and ever has been finally ceases to exist, our love will continue to endure forever and ever, amen. They can't take that away from us no matter how hard they try.

Someday we'll make it official.

Author's Note: I originally wrote this essay for a school assignment, but I decided to publish it here as well in the hopes that my story, along with countless others like it, is not lost in the battle for same-sex marriage.  We can talk about the rights and responsibilities of marriage all we want, but that is not what marriage is really about.  Matt did not propose to me because he wanted tax benefits; Matt proposed because he loves me and wants to be with me til death do us part.  Marriage is about stability and love, and we are just as deserving of those things as anyone else.