L.A. Affairs: With this gift, the feeling was mutual

I met Harry in church choir, when he came to his first rehearsal.

He was trim and good-looking, and his assigned seat was directly in front of mine, giving me a good view of the bald spot on the back of his head. I thought of “The Falsettos,” a play in which a married man falls in love with a gay man who has a similar bald spot.

There was much discussion at break that first rehearsal about whether the new guy was gay. It didn’t take long for us to figure out he was. He was interested in attending meetings of our church’s gay support group. Having recently come out to people at church and in choir, I too was interested in attending those activities. So in the days and weeks ahead, whenever a meeting or potluck was announced, I would ask Harry if he were going. If he said, “Yes,” I would show up too.

It wasn’t exactly stalking, but I was quite systematic about finding out his activities and then joining him.

Harry learned my story — that I had been married to a woman also in choir. He rightfully assumed that I was eager to make a gay friend, someone with whom to talk and do things. He seemed amenable to that idea.

But did he have any idea that I was interested in more than friendship?

Months later, our rector announced a meeting on a Sunday evening to talk about the issue of blessing same-sex unions. That morning in choir, I asked Harry if he planned to attend. When he said he was, I showed up and took a seat next to his and smiled.

The meeting went longer than planned, so I asked Harry if he wanted to join a group of us getting dinner afterward. Somehow, we ended up going to Old Town, Pasadena, just the two of us.

During the meal, I grilled him about his life. He told me about his family in South Carolina, about his breakup with his last partner. He talked about his job as a researcher…

Now, I hadn’t dated since college days, and most of those encounters were by mutual consent, not as a result of my asking someone out. I didn’t really have experience. So when we got back to church and parked in the lot, I decided to just blurt out my intentions: “Harry, I need you to help me out. I am interested in you romantically. Am I barking up the right tree?”

“No,” he said quickly.

He said I had taken him by surprise, he thought I was just a lonely, recently out gay man who needed a friend. I was startled but not entirely crushed. Harry finally said, “Well, maybe we should go on a proper date and see how it goes.”

We made arrangements to go to a movie and out to dinner.

I brought a small bouquet of flowers when I went to his house to pick him up. After the movie, we ate dinner at an Italian restaurant. We ended the evening at his house. Harry told me later that I had passed a test: I could kiss well.

We got to know each other gradually. We had church and choir in common, and that was especially good because it meant we shared some common values. He liked classical music, and like me, listened to it in his car when he drove to work. I got to see how a gay man lived and spent his leisure time. Although Harry didn’t want to go out to gay clubs or bars (he had run with the pack earlier in his life and was now looking for something more) he told me about what it was like when he was younger and bar-hopping. That fascinated me.

Harry would regularly come to my apartment in Altadena for dinner or I would dine with him in his house in Glassell Park. I was paying alimony and rent and I found myself with little or nothing left at the end of each month. I couldn’t see how I could ever better myself, get new furniture, go on a vacation, or fix up the broken-down car I drove.

One Saturday afternoon on my return to Altadena from a gay rap group in West Hollywood, my car died on the uphill section of the 134 Freeway. I called Harry.

The death of the car provided Harry and me the opportunity to discuss finances. We agreed that since we were together almost every night, I should move in with him and use my saved rent money to help him make his mortgage payments. I was growing more and more in love with him.

When an opening in the California law allowed gay couples to marry, we proposed to each other and secured a church date, Dec. 28.

Having a wedding right after Christmas was festive and fun. The church was still decorated with colorful yuletide wreaths and poinsettias.

We exchanged our vows at the altar, and the choir sang “O Come All Ye Faithful” and “Joy to the World.” We even slipped in “Deck the Halls” with its line “Don we now our gay apparel” and then began our fully committed relationship.

Now, when the holiday season rolls around, the decorations are a constant reminder that our anniversary is just coming up.

Some friends who knew us when we had been living together asked, "Did marriage make a difference?"

Yes.

Being married made us kinder and more supportive to each other. It was the gift we didn't even know we both wanted so much.

The author is a retired high school English teacher.

L.A. Affairs chronicles love stories in and around Los Angeles. If you have comments or a true story to tell, email us at LAAffairs@latimes.com.