I want to attempt to put a human face on the current debate that rages over same sex marriages. The theological, philosophical and moral arguments have all been made. I have nothing new to add in that regard.

I have noticed, however, that both sides of the question tend to argue in the abstract, and both sides tend to forget that real people with real families and friends are at the centre of this issue. I am one of those “real people” directly affected by the debate and its eventual outcome. So I guess that makes me somewhat qualified to offer my perspective.

Let me state up front that I am a 43-year-old gay man. I come from a large Catholic family of five boys and two girls. I grew up in the ’70s thinking that I was the only gay person in the world. My peers understood that I was different long before I did. To demonstrate their special insight into my character, they mercilessly taunted and labelled me a “faggot” in high school. Like many other gay and lesbian people, my constant companions were loneliness, fear and despair. I can remember many moments as a teenager when the cruel taunts and the desperate isolation of my situation made me wish that I would just die. I thought I had no one that I could turn to.

Somehow I survived. I went on to study for the priesthood in the early ’80s at St. Peter’s Seminary in London. Ironically, our rector at the time was Fr. Fred Henry (now Bishop Fred Henry and a strident and outspoken opponent of homosexual people and same sex marriage).

I originally entered the seminary because I had incorrectly reasoned that if I was gay, then surely the Almighty had some grand plan for me and, surely that plan included becoming a celibate priest. This mistake I soon learned had been made by many other gay men who had also entered the seminary. Most of us who had entered with such mistaken notions had the eventual good sense to leave before ordination.

In any event, I left the seminary when I realized that I had only talked myself into going as a way to “justify” the fact that God had made me gay. After leaving, I established a career in banking and a semblance of self-acceptance. I lived most of my adult life as a semi-closeted gay man. I was out to a very small circle of friends and family and to everyone else I lied. I evaded close relationships with colleagues and acquaintances because I thought it was just easier that way. And I was right: it was easier, but it was also lonelier. I had successfully avoided the merciless taunts and labels in exchange for self-imposed isolation.

I guess once I turned 40 it became obvious even to me that an unmarried guy living downtown with a white poodle and a male “roommate” was probably gay. No point keeping up the pretence. I came out. Along the way, I also happened to meet a terrific guy and we decided to spend our life together. For the past six years that we have been together I have never been happier. We are very much in love (between all the ordinary ups and downs of any couple).

When the legal right to marry became a reality in Ontario it initially had no effect upon me. After all, my partner and I had arranged all of our financial and other affairs so that we pretty much enjoyed the same rights and obligations of a heterosexual married couple. Why bother getting married? It was a nice thing and I was glad that the right existed but marriage seemed to me to be something for other lesbian and gay people.

Somewhere in the back of our minds we also did not believe that the right to marry was permanent — it might just be a fluke. The “powers that be” will surely revoke this marriage thing just as quickly as it came into being. No point in us investing too much emotional energy into something that might not be here tomorrow.

Lastly, we did not want to rush out right away and get married because marriage was, after all, a big step in a relationship — one that we had previously given very little thought to. We needed time.

The more we mulled it over the more sense it made to us. We loved each other and we wanted an exclusive and committed relationship. In fact, before we had the legal right to get married, we had already set up our affairs to become a de facto marriage. As I thought about it, it would also be nice to have a broader social recognition of our relationship. In some small way, perhaps, just perhaps, the right to marry might possibly signal society’s acceptance of lesbian and gay people.

As someone who has not only been denied a robust sense of acceptance from broader society, but has also been the target of active discrimination from time to time, the idea of acceptance was intoxicating. More time passed. We pondered. I proposed. He accepted.

We will be married on June 25.

I wish I could say that my entire family is happy for us and is eager to celebrate this important milestone in our relationship. My retired parents (who lead the Legion of Mary in their local diocese) have consulted a priest in the parish next door about whether or not they should attend. This priest has counselled them not to attend as this would be “condoning a sin.”

I later telephoned the priest to confirm his pastoral stance on the matter. When I called the priest’s Bishop to ask why such a hard line is encouraged by the Church, I was simply told that the priest was a good and faithful servant and that he had the full confidence of the Bishop. My youngest brother will also not attend the wedding citing instructions from his parish priest in the matter.

I am exasperated by this kind of thinking. I am tired by this kind of intolerance. I am tired of fighting for simple recognition and acceptance. After 43 years, I am impatient for positive change.

I am also happy. I am happy that I have found my soul mate. I am delighted to commit myself to this man. I am proud that most of my family and all of my friends will celebrate with us.

Same sex marriage is not an abstraction to us. I only ask that those of your readers who oppose this right — please remember that there are real people trying to live their lives in the midst of all of this. Families are being torn apart by the hard line that is being promoted by some members of the Church and the magisterium. A modicum of respect and charity would be appreciated.