In The Bold Italic. More on Medium.

For our wedding, my person and I decided to ask a good friend to marry us. There were a few reasons for the selection; our friend was famously grumpy, and marriage — gay marriage in particular — really got her grump rumpled. She wished homos would put their efforts toward less bourgeois activity, and was bitter about her own failed gay marriage. She was also a poet, prone to sentimental weeping, with a humorous presence reminiscent of Fozzie Bear. I told her that working-class queers were going to be getting hitched every bit as much as the upwardly mobile, and…
Celebrating the free-wheeling spirit of the Bay Area — one sentence at a time.