So I had a bad day’s driving. Okay: a very, very bad day. My car flipped over on I-95 near Richmond on a Thursday afternoon in March 2007. Neither alcohol nor speed was a factor in the crash. Thankfully, no one else was involved; I walked out of this accident with a couple of stitches in my arm and a “let me be a lesson to you” lecture to tell the students in my high school classes about wearing their seatbelts (which I did) and not getting behind the wheel without having had plenty of sleep (which, unfortunately, I also did).

The accident was my fault. I told the police officer the truth at the scene, I was convicted of reckless driving, I paid my fine and proceeded – like a little lamb running back to the fold – to return to the safe driving ways I maintained before this whole mess occurred. I also fully expected my insurance rates to skyrocket. All this led to the following conversation with my insurance company last month:

The nice lady on the phone quoted me a potential figure. I asked if there was anything else I could do to mitigate the rise in costs. She suggested a change in the deductible. I told her that that would be fine and asked if there was anything else I could do to return to my insurance company’s good graces.

At this point, the nice lady on the phone said, “Well, if you’ve been thinking about getting married, now would be the time!”

I paused. My uncomfortable chuckles met her merry laughter. The nice lady on the phone kindly explained how, since I was a male (gender discrimination!) and under thirty (age discrimination!), there was nothing else I could do to lower my premium but for me to turn to my priest, pastor, or rabbi and enter the blissful confines of the nuptial state with the opposite-sex partner of my choosing.

All right now, she didn’t explain it quite that way, but the gist of it was, “Get yourself hitched, honey!” There was no concurrent explanation for why married people are automatically considered more responsible and thereby worthy of lower car insurance premiums. There was also, as you might expect, no explanation of how I was to legally (or ethically – to think of the poor girl who marries me so that I can reach insurance nirvana!) achieve the premium-lowering solution she had so cheerfully proposed.

So, Lesson Number 1 is “Don’t crash the car, stupid.” And Lesson Number 2 is “My insurance company can suck it (and probably so can yours) for setting up rules that it is impossible for gay men or lesbians to take advantage of in 48 states in our post-California brave new world.”

For the audience participation portion of our afternoon’s show, briefly detail a situation in which you, too, dear reader, have run up against policies that seem designed to discriminate against your sexual orientation. Vent at will; I am fascinated to learn of my brethren’s experiences.