Steven LaChance Blog

In an ideal world, I would be able to hold my husband’s hand in public without a second thought. Not just in the safe pockets of the world—the city streets where we blend in, the Pride festivals where we are celebrated, the family gatherings where we are known—but anywhere. Any street, any town, any room. I wouldn’t have to assess the people around us, scanning their faces for hostility, gauging whether the warmth of his hand in mine is worth the potential coldness of a stranger’s stare or even worse.

In a perfect world, I wouldn’t flinch when a stranger asks, “Are you two roommates?” as if the idea of us being husbands is too foreign, too uncomfortable, too much for them to compute. There’s always a moment, a pause, where I have to decide: Do I correct them? Do I say, “No, actually, this is my husband,” and risk their visible discomfort, their awkward apology, their half-hearted, “Oh, that’s great!”? Or do I let it slide, let them live in their assumption, let them see us as two men who just happen to live together, as if our life together is just a matter of convenience? In an ideal world, no one would default to erasure just because it’s easier.

In an ideal world, our love wouldn’t be a statement. It wouldn’t be something we have to defend, explain, or soften for the comfort of others. It wouldn’t be dissected in political debates, reduced to court rulings, or used as a talking point for people who see us as a moral dilemma rather than two human beings who fell in love.

In a perfect world, we wouldn’t be the gay couple at the party—the ones people keep an eye on, not out of malice, but out of curiosity. The ones who sometimes feel the weight of being different, even among allies. The ones who wonder if the friendliness is just a touch too enthusiastic, as if our presence is being performed rather than naturally accepted. In an ideal world, we wouldn’t have to wonder if we are being included or merely tolerated.

In an ideal world, my marriage wouldn’t come with an asterisk. It wouldn’t require an explanation, a justification, a moment of hesitation when checking a box on a form. It wouldn’t be something I have to remind people is real.

But we don’t live in an ideal world. We live in this one. And in this world, we have learned to navigate. We measure our words, choosing when to correct, when to ignore, when to stand our ground. We make mental maps of where we feel safe and where we do not. We brace ourselves for the moments when we will have to explain, educate, or defend, even when we’re exhausted from doing so.

Yet even in this imperfect world, we still love. We still live. We still hold hands—sometimes carefully, sometimes defiantly, sometimes without thinking at all. Because even in a world that is not ideal, our love is. And that will always be enough and it needs no one’s approval or acceptance.