I met Tim at a bar in Raleigh. I had been out for a couple of years, had experienced a short romance, and had been single again for a few months. It was early on a Friday night, and the bar wasn’t crowded. I was talking with friends and saw him come in and take a seat by himself. I knew I’d regret it if I didn’t speak. So I did.
He was from New Brunswick, Canada, and had just moved to town when I met him, so we spent the evening touring downtown Raleigh. We shared our first kiss on the street near City Market, and I invited him to be my date for a Holiday party at my brother’s home the following night.
I wasn’t really looking for a relationship, but I found the love of my life that night. This coming December will mark the 11th anniversary of our meeting, the beginning of our family.
Though we can’t legally get married, we’ve been with each other through sickness and health, through good times and bad times, through joy and through sorrow. We’ve made friends, and we’ve created a home. We’ve celebrated holidays, and we have lost friends and family members. Through it all Tim has been my constant. Tim is my family.
Our biggest sorrow, though, is yet to come. Because we are gay and cannot get married, the United States doesn’t recognize us for immigration. To the United States, we are strangers, and because of that, I have to watch Tim board a plan and leave me for a year. His visa is up, and to be eligible again, he must leave the country for 365 consecutive days… and I can’t do a damn thing about it.
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