Today is the day Washington’s domestic partnership measure kicks in: here, we are everything-but-married. It means a lot, yet it means not much. It means that as long as I don’t cross the state line, K and I will be treated like spouses in purely domestic matters such as testifying against each other in court, visiting each other in prison, and telling doctors what to do when the other one is dying. (Cheerful stuff.) These provisions are particularly important for those of us with children or who are planning to have children.

They mean nothing, zero, on the Federal level. COBRA isn’t guaranteed for domestic partners. Immigration rights are laughed at, social security is ignored, and just fucking forget joint filing with the IRS. Also, delete everything in the first paragraph if we go to Florida and other queer-hating states. If you’re in the military, you are still screwed: yep, you can die for us, but you can’t talk about it and we won’t give your sweetie the medal you won dying for us–or the pension.

Still, it’s worth having; I’m glad I have it with Kelley. And pretty soon folks in DC will have it there, too–just not in Florida and all those other places. Though sadly those in New York just got kicked in the gut.

Marridge is good, but I still want marriage.