Wednesday, Brandon and I met a friend for lunch at Green’s restaurant in Fort Mason. We were having a nice leisurely lunch (no alcohol for me since I had to get back to work). I love the view on most days, but all we had was fog and some of the marina.

Later into our meal, the woman next to us politely interrupted to ask if Brandon and I were brothers. In stride, Brandon corrected her by telling her we were married. She then mentioned that she saw the same rings on our fingers and thought it may have been a possibility. If two guys are sitting right next to each other with the exact same rings on their left hands while in San Francisco, it’s probably a safe bet that they’re not brothers. As the saying goes in the city, “gay until proven straight.”

This is not the first time we’ve been asked this, and it probably won’t be the last. This kind of event doesn’t unsettle us usually, but it’s just one more time we have to come out; it’s a never-ending process. If we were at lunch with a kid, again I ask, would the person not sitting with the kid be thought of as the brother/uncle? It’s no big deal unless someone decides to try and tell us that our family is not a “real” family. It’s just one of my minor fears for the future.