I’m remembering my first ‘marriage’ right now and the wonderful time I had going all Martha Stewart every Thanksgiving and Christmas.

I decorated our New York City apartment to the hilt, prepared fabulous meals, threw parties, and generally wore myself to a frazzle.

I did it because I wanted to, so no regrets, but I did sometimes wonder why my husband couldn’t help more. He seemed happy to look at me in a role of the spouse whose job it was to DO the holidays.

Hidden, unspoken misogyny? Probably, not that he would have thought so or I would have accused him of. But it’s interesting how roles from the straight world sort of just melted over into our gay world. I took on the role of homemaker, and he took on the role of sitting in his recliner waiting for dinner.

Neither of us found that very odd, which is interesting at least.