This afternoon I'm going to a gathering to celebrate the anniversary of a friend and her partner. They're both women, so it's not a wedding anniversary -- maybe they mark the day they met, or their first date? Someone should take a survey to find out what occasion most same-sex couples commemorate.
The invitation says there will be a time when guests may say a few words or sing a song in honor of the couple. (Our friend is a songwriter and performer, so I imagine many of her friends are, too.) I thought I'd like to sing a song, but I changed my mind after I took a look through my recent catalog. Here's a typical entry:
I fell in love the first time when I was twenty-three.
I fell in love with a handsome man; he fell in love with me.
I fell in love with being loved by someone strong and tall.
And that will be the death of me, how easily I fall.
I fell in love with hard times; I fell in love completely.
I fall in love with strangers, and they break my heart so sweetly.
I fell in love with suicide; I fell in love with sin.
I fall in love a thousand times, and then I fall again.
I don't believe in love, not the kind that haunts my dreams.
It's seldom what I need, and never what it seems.
I don't believe in love, not the kind that picks and chooses.
Whatever someone takes away, the other someone loses.
I'm still in love with making love; of that I still think highly.
There's love, and then there's love, and then there's something else entirely.
I used to be in love with love when I was twenty-three.
I used to be in love, but love fell out of love with me.
Maybe not the best message for an anniversary party. (Funny, reading the lyrics now, without the melody, it's a little like Dr. Suess isn't it?)