When Stay and I first met, I was still dating someone else. Even though we had been separated for a couple of years, my divorce had only been finalized six months prior. Stay was in the final stages of her own divorce. Neither of us was looking for anything serious, and the thought of remarriage was far from our minds.
She had been hired at my workplace, and during our very first meeting, Stay told me I looked mean and unapproachable. I, on the other hand, thought she was cute and felt an immediate, inexplicable pull toward her.
We spent the next few months side by side as I trained her at work. We became fast friends—having frequent lunches together, sharing stories about her plans to move to DC, and even me offering relationship advice. I had a habit of speaking in Jamaican patois during phone calls so coworkers couldn’t easily eavesdrop, and one of the first things she said to me was:
“I can understand what you’re saying, you know.”
It turned out she had been raised by a Jamaican mother. My private calls were no longer private, but I didn’t mind. I loved that we shared a culture—it was another thread weaving us closer together.
Romance began unexpectedly at a company beach picnic. All day leading up to the event, I found myself thinking about her. Once there, I couldn’t stop wanting to be near her. My feelings were growing, though I wasn’t sure if she felt the same. Towards the end of the evening, while walking to the bathroom, she linked her pinky with mine—our first physical touch. That night, we made plans to see a movie the following morning, and from that day, we were inseparable.
I often joke that she came over for our first date and never left. She was around so much that my then 8-year-old son jokingly asked if she was homeless. We worked together all day and spent every night together. It was an exhilarating, magical time.
It wasn’t long before we introduced each other to our friends and family. While we were certain about each other, our loved ones had reasonable concerns. She’s twelve years younger than I am, and my family worried if she truly understood what it meant to step into the lives of two special-needs children. Stay’s family worried about heartbreak—after all, I had never been in a same-sex relationship before. Would this just be an experiment? Would I eventually leave her?
Early on, we had to make some big decisions. Stay’s job was temporary, and she was moving from NJ to VA at the end of August for a better career opportunity. During an oil change, she asked the question that would change everything:
“When I leave, is this over? Are we friends with benefits, or is this more?”
Sitting in the car, we chose to dive in completely, without hesitation. I’ve never regretted that choice. Just a couple of weeks later, she showed up at my door in the middle of the night, carrying roses and a ring—she proposed. We planned a small wedding for the following March.
From August 2015 to March 2016, Stay lived in Virginia while I remained in New Jersey. We spent eight months driving four hours each way on alternating weekends. Not once did we miss a visit. It was challenging, but we were committed to making it work.
The five years since our wedding have brought countless challenges. Stay took a pay cut to move to Virginia, trusting that it would boost her career in the long run—and it did. We navigated health crises, including surgeries for both my younger son and me, as well as my ex-husband and his family temporarily living with us during COVID travel restrictions. Yes, I asked my partner, “Do you mind if my ex and their family move in?” She said yes, without hesitation. The pandemic, for all its disruptions, deepened our bond.
Being a same-sex couple has brought its own hurdles. My coming out was a shock to many, and while most friends accepted it, losing some was painful. One lifelong friend said, “I love you, but I cannot accept this,” effectively cutting me off. I told her I would always stand by my wife, that my love for her was unconditional, and I left the door open—literally and figuratively. Over time, she returned, and now our friendship has healed.
Stay’s relationship with her own family had a rocky start. Her mom struggled to come to terms with our relationship at first, worried about acceptance and societal judgment. But over time, she realized, as she told me, “Being happy and real is more important than being kept prisoner by someone else’s expectations.”
We’ve faced prejudice, but we’ve also found acceptance. Trips to Jamaica have been worry-free. Friends from my high school embraced Stay, and while some distanced themselves online, those people were never truly part of my circle. We focus on those who love and support us, leaving intolerance behind.
Our children have thrived in this family. From the very beginning, they accepted Stay for who she is, without questioning her gender. We’ve always maintained open conversations, answering their questions at age-appropriate levels. My 13-year-old recently noticed gay characters in a cartoon and said, “I haven’t seen that before. I think it’s good. Kids will know it’s normal,” then casually asked for a snack. The kids aren’t the problem—prejudice is.
Through it all, we’ve remained grounded. We laugh a lot, respect each other, and know that each of us has the other’s best interests at heart. Online, we share glimpses of our life to show that families like ours are just as loving, joyful, and hardworking as any other. We argue about laundry and dinner, juggle work, kids, bills, and health—but we also chase education, career milestones, and dreams. Stay is two classes away from her MBA, I’m studying for my CPA license, and together we’re about to close on our first house.
Our hope is to be a visible, positive example for multiple communities—Black, LGBT+, immigrant, female, male, disabled, American. We want those who need it to see a safe place in us, and those still learning to see that our love is real, legitimate, and deserving of celebration.
