"Will you marry me?"

It's meant to be the most romantic statement of all statements and she really did go all out. My favorite flowers, my favorite food, my favorite wine, my favorite music… she knows me, obviously. She loves me too - that much I know… but I can't say yes. I can't.

It's not real. It's not a contract. It's a bunch of crap. I don't want to have some ceremony telling everyone that I love that I am committing to a woman, when I am not. I am not committing. The forms can be undone. The registration with government can be unregistered. We've practically been living together for six months, except that blip on the radar… that torturous month… but we've been living together ever since, for four months. She's asked me once before and I told her that I wanted to wait until things settle down. I thought that it would scare her off the question, but as I look into the chocolate brown eyes I know she couldn't be scared off from this question. This is what she wants. Her naivety shocks me. I know that she's not ignorant. She is a smart woman, sometimes she leads with her mouth instead of her brain, but this isn't one of those moments, she planned this to perfection, I can tell by the monologue before the question that it was rehearsed. She led with her heart and her head, but she led me to a place I don't want to be.

I watch her face fall. She knows my answer, she doesn't say anything, and she just reaches for the empty plate in front of me and picks it up, grabbing the plate in front of her as well. I watch her turn, and as she does so she gulps and nods ever so slightly, her head falling.

"Calliope."

"No… its fine I understand. I thought, after… that we cleared everything up, that we decided that this was forever. Its ok, I know I get trigger happy – oh god – sorry, bad choice of words... I rush things… maybe I'm finally completing my lesbian transformation." She adds a short humorless laugh as she tries to meet my eyes and smile. I see the tears building in her eyes as she puts the plates in the sink.

"We… we can't. Get married."

"I get it. Really Zona, I'm sorry for bringing it up again, I'll leave it alone." She turns on the water and watches it as it fills the sink. She walks around to get the glasses.

"No, we literally can't."

"Um… ok." She looks at me and shrugs. One tear has escaped and she turns back.

"Because we are women."

"Arizona its fine. I am aware of the law ok… this isn't about the law."

"Yeah. It kinda is."

She drops the plate she had started to wash up back into the sink.

"Arizona I have been married before, I'm sure you are well aware of that. I have also been divorced before, and maybe that is why you are so hesitant. I jumped in and married the guy. I rushed that too… I get it really. We can sign papers and we can commit to each other and it's too soon-"

"It wouldn't be marriage!" She turns and stared at me in what I think is disbelief. She leans against the cupboards and crosses her arms. I am so in trouble. She takes a deep breath and she moves her hands in front of her in the way she does when she's trying to explain something and gets frustrated. She's frustrated. At me. She doesn't get it.

"Arizona. When I divorced George… do you think that my marriage ended the day I filed the papers? Do you think it ended the day I signed the papers?"

I don't understand what she's asking.

"Um… I guess it was the day it was recognized?"

"No." She shakes her head and her eyes do the quick blinking thing she does when she's exasperated. "No the day my marriage ended was the day we decided to end it. Not when someone told me that I was free of him, not when someone else said it was ok. The legal stuff? That's bullshit. It's some stuck-up middle-aged man's idea that's been entrenched in law for years. Did you know that marriage was originally a business decision? That it was a way of selling off a daughter? I am not asking to trade you for a donkey Arizona. I'm not asking for your father's permission, I'm not asking for the laws permission. I am asking for your permission to spend the rest of my life with you."

"But we… we wouldn't be married. It's just not iron-clad" She doesn't understand! Why can't she understand that it's not the same? I watch as she sighs heavily. She expels so much air from her lungs that her shoulders slump a little.

"Ok, so I know this makes for an awful proposal, me bringing up my ex twice, but… I got married." She looks up and directly into my eyes "I got divorced too. Marriage is not iron-clad, but my word to you? That is. My words to you are strong."

"I don't like those ceremonies where people act like they are committing forever and the piece of paper they sign can be undone as easily as sending a letter."

"What you mean… Weddings?" She laughs

"No I mean gay partnership things…" I don't know when I became so ineloquent. I watch her smile. Her tears are still marking her face, but she looks relieved.

"Az." She says, her tone indicating that she's trying to get me to listen... as though I am not. I am listening. No matter what she says - it won't be legal. "I'm not asking you to put on a white dress and I'm not asking for you to sign anything. I'm not asking to have a ceremony and people and lawyers…" Isn't that exactly what she is asking? "We have friends who got married on a post-it and they have the best marriage around here." True. My eyes follow her as she walks over to the ring. "I am asking you to wear this... to wear my ring and call me your wife, girlfriend, life partner, slave… your… whatever... I am asking you to always come home to me even when I've been an ass because my mouth has run off and my brain was too slow in catching up. I am asking you to stay despite my flaws. I am asking you to let me be the only one you yell at when you need to be distracted from your fear. I am asking that you to call me your future, your forever. I am asking if it's ok that I call you my future, my forever."

She is my future, she is my forever. I feel her gaze, and watch more tears leave her eyes. It's us that decide how strong we are - that's what she saying. She is asking me to say that we are strong, that we are iron-clad. Words escape me, so I do the only thing I can.

I nod.