Trying–And Failing–To Build a Bridge While Cruising the Cumberland

My spouse Tom and I try to be reasonably friendly with strangers–at least in terms of basic civility–but given the hot-button situations out there, we also try to practice the sort of boundaries that prevent a potentially ugly scene. We look for clues with regard to how receptive folks might be to our situation, and we become especially mindful of when we might be stuck in an awkward shared seating or dining arrangement.

Late this past September, Tom and I found ourselves in one of those thorny encounters. We had just come out of two weeks of quarantine from a breakthrough COVID infection during the height of the Delta variant, so it felt especially good to get out of the house on a weekday evening and play tourists in our own city. We boarded Nashville’s General Jackson Showboat for a dinner show cruise; we had booked that evening’s sailing in particular, because a good friend of ours was part of the talented group of musicians performing.

Upon boarding, we found our assigned table and were soon joined by an outgoing middle-aged man and woman. We exchanged pleasantries and learned that they were celebrating their anniversary and had recently moved from Southern California to a rural enclave in one of the suburban counties outside of Nashville. Both husband and wife declared that they had fled the Golden State because they didn’t like “having their tax dollars support lifestyles they didn’t agree with.” Hmmm, just what lifestyles are those, we wondered, but of course we didn’t ask.

Another married straight couple arrived at the table. They identified themselves as tourists from Montana, where they own and operate a ranch. Please let me state for the record that I grew up in a rural community in Western Kentucky and maintain deep respect for folks from all settings and walks of life. So, no judgment intended, but the husband projected a rather bold and crass swagger in pretty much all his interactions.

The Montana wife was pleasant and soft-spoken, but in mere seconds, they both developed an instant kinship with the California-to-Tennessee refugee couple and firmly asserted their preference for Red State life and their disenchantment with all things urban and progressive. At this stage, Tom and I largely withdrew from the conversation.

I will give the California husband and wife credit, sort of, for trying to engage Tom and me in some chit-chat. They asked us if we were brothers and quizzed us about our family ties. I think we did end up stating that we lived in the same condo, but we did our best to keep our cards close to the vest, given the tenor of the other threads of conversation at the table. We don’t wear wedding rings, as Tom is not a fan of jewelry, but I still figured that at some point, we got our point across without exactly spelling out our nuptial status.

I know this always seems patronizing to say, but I have people I like and care about who hold political or religious views with which I don’t agree. It’s not a matter of me wanting ideologically segregated dining, far from it. Yet, in a communal setting with total strangers all trying to consume and digest their food, I think there is something to be said for trying to keep things on a superficial level until or unless all the parties involved seem comfortable with the line of questioning.

Thankfully, Tom and I were able to spend the time in between dinner service and the start of the show on the outdoor deck. We took snapshots of the lovely Nashville nighttime skyline and gave one another a chance to vent about our dining experience.

In our perfect world, we would just say “we are married,” and move on with wherever the conversation headed. Yet, in this particular situation, we didn’t muster the confidence to lay things on the table with that level of directness. That sounds cowardly, I realize, but then again, events later in the evening re-enforced our hesitation.

After parting the table with minimal discussion beyond the most generic of goodbye well wishes, we made it to the stage, where we caught up with our musician friend and chatted for a few minutes about how much we enjoyed the show. We then made our way to disembark the boat.

There were multiple corridors leading to the exit, and it was rather dark, so as we walked from one direction, we heard the couples from out table talking with one another, but I don’t think they saw or heard us. California wife was asking the Montana couple about whether they had been able to take in the honky tonks and other attractions in the Downtown tourist area. Montana husband replied that they had tried but that, “the queers were all over the place.”

My initial reaction was seething rage, but I didn’t engage. I just gave myself permission to mentally process my anger for a moment. (I won’t say what I was thinking at that exact moment, but it wasn’t pretty.) I realize that Montana husband was probably referring to visitors from the recent Nashville Pride Festival. I didn’t have a chance to hear any context or explanation from the overheard conversation, but I guess Montana husband thinks that we gays don’t need to flaunt our sexuality.

My response to such a complaint would be that we gay people have had to contend with straight people holding hands and displaying the nature of their relationship for a long time. We aren’t asking for anything different than the things that straight people already take for granted. Do Tom and I attend the Nashville Pride Festival every year at this stage in our lives? Not exactly, but I fully appreciate the affirming purpose these events serve for so many.

So, even though we might have seemed timid at the table, Tom and I aren’t going anywhere. We will continue to live our lives and not apologize to anyone. We are fulfilling our dreams and doing our best to be stand-up members of the community and decent humans. If anyone objects to that, well, it’s their loss, because I think we are worth getting to know. I can honestly say that, initial reactions aside, I don’t hold ill will toward our dining companions from that night. Tom and I are way too blessed in our lives to fixate on the haters.