RC couple ties knot

By Wendy Leung

They say you're not supposed to date in the workplace. But that's exactly where Laurie Roades and Alison Bowen met -- at the local college where they worked four years ago. It would be a cliché to call it love at first sight but it didn't take long -- a couple of dates tops -- before they started using the words that make single people cringe.

Love. Soul mate. The one.

This is a story of girl meets girl. Girl falls in love with girl. Girl marries girl.

But it's a tale not so easy to tell, partly because the ending is still being crafted.

Eight years ago, more than 60 percent of California voters thought same-sex couples like Rancho Cucamonga residents Roades and Bowen should not be allowed to marry. This May, the California Supreme Court made a landmark decision by calling marriage a "fundamental right" for gays and lesbians. On Nov. 4, voters will have a chance to reverse that opinion.

"We're not asking for special rights, we're asking for the same rights," said Roades. "Gays and lesbians are people we work with, people we live by. I have to trust that voters will not want to rewrite the Constitution and eliminate rights from people."

This is indeed a watershed in the history of gay rights. Yet Roades and Bowen's love story, like many other same-sex couples', is rather quotidian.

Upon first glance, the adage that opposites attract applies here. Bowen, 36, a writer and Idaho native, has ringlets that match her personality. Despite her sweetness, there's a wild streak. The Scripps College alumna went sky diving when she was 18.

Roades, 45, a teacher and Missouri native, is quiet with a tinge of self deprecating humor. She gets embarrassed when people say she bares resemblance to Princess Diana. Despite her habit of wearing suits, she likes to collect T-shirts from different universities -- all in grey.

They laugh about the concessions they've made throughout the years. When they adopted a Chihuahua from the Rancho Cucamonga animal shelter, Bowen named her "Mango" while Roades tried hard not to roll her eyes. And despite growing up camping all her life, Bowen knows it's not Roades' cup of tea.

"If I can stay in an air-conditioned hotel the whole time, I'd be happy," Roades said.

They are concessions that are more endearing than annoying. The simple compromises remind Roades and Bowen why they fell in love and why after the state ban on same-sex marriages was lifted, they were one of the first couples in San Bernardino County to get their marriage license.

"I wanted more than anything to marry Laurie," Bowen said. "I'd jump tall buildings."

"Gays and lesbians are always treated as second class citizens," Roades said. "To be told you can marry ... wow."

Wedding Preparations

The same-sex marriage issue this election season is about amending the Constitution. But it's also about giving two women a chance to wear the prettiest dresses they can find, say "I do" and dance to Etta James' "At Last."

In July, when the couple was making the final touches to their wedding menu and slowly getting RSVP cards in their mailbox, it began to sink in that they were finally tieing the knot.

"It's like Christmas every time I open the mailbox," Bowen said.

They hired The Kitchen for Exploring Foods, a Pasadena caterer that has been busy since the court ruling. Event Coordinator Nicolette DiMaggio said she has organized many commitment ceremonies for same-sex couples in the past but as soon as the court lifted the ban in May, "everything snowballed."

When asked whether there were differences between organizing a same-sex wedding and a straight wedding, DiMaggio said, "Gay couples prefer events that are more laid back. They agree more ... they seem more in love."

It sounds like a strange sweeping statement that same-sex couples are more capable of love but in the case of Roades and Bowen, their saccharine demeanor is amplified simply because the road to their wedding day was always littered with obstacles.

Just one judge voting differently would have meant no wedding cake this year; or perhaps no grilled Gruyere cheese sandwiches, one of the appetizers Roades and Bowen were deciding on with their caterer.

"I think if we can't spell it, we shouldn't get it," said Roades, who grew up thinking all cheese came in the form of Velveeta.

"We weren't allowed to have Velveeta or processed foods," Bowen said. "I thought my mom was being mean to me when she didn't let me eat Velveeta."

Not all the wedding planning was this fun. On one Saturday, they went to 22 different stores and couldn't find a wedding dress they liked. Two weeks before the big day, the band cancelled.

But when Sept. 6 came, everything pulled through.

Here comes the brides

When Roades and Bowen walked with clutched hands down the aisle of the Altadena Community Church, the 45 friends and relatives smiled so wide, their faces must have hurt.

"I'm thrilled," said Bowen's father, Reed Bowen. "You can clearly see how critical this is for them."

The United Church of Christ in Altadena, an "open and affirming church" was where Roades and Bowen attended before they bought their condominium and moved to Rancho Cucamonga.

Reverend Joe McGowan reminded the couple, "God does not put parameters on love. Let no covenant, let no church pull you apart."

A reception marked by Gruyere and plenty of other food that's tricky to spell took place at the Pasadena City Hall courtyard under an amber sunset. A wedding photographer milled about while dinner was served. Reed Bowen made a toast and the married couple cut their butter cream raspberry cake. Then to cap off the night, a rendition of "At Last."

"I've never seen two people who were so spiritually and intuitively in sych," said Marilyn Morrison, a long time friend who met the couple at Altadena Church. "They are literally soul mates and that's rare."

Morrison said finding a lifetime partner is hard for everyone but particularly for gays and lesbians.

"It's like you already have two strikes once you're up at bat," she said.

Marriage, with all its stature and symbolism, isn't for everyone. But for Roades and Bowen, marriage was something they prayed for and if Prop. 8 passes and the Constitution is amended to define marriage as a union between a man and a woman, it would be a devastating blow to them.

When asked how she would handle the news if Prop. 8 passes, Bowen said, "I can't even go there right now."

After the wedding, Bowen was afraid that her magical day could be taken away come November, so she joined the No on Prop. 8 camp to start a phone bank office in the Inland Empire.

"We waited so long to get married and when it happened, it was joy, joy, joy," Bowen said. "Having an institution behind you ... it's an additional feeling of stability."

It's a feeling that's difficult to describe but many recently married couples feel it. Something changes with the weight of a wedding ring or the use of the words "my spouse."

"We know the grass isn't going to be greener on the other side," Roades said. "I got the good end of the deal."

"Yeah, I'm gonna keep her," Bowen said.