Tying a knot

It started with a pair of women who had been partners in life, love and lesbian politics for more than half a century. It crescendoed when a world-famous celebrity dashed in and out of town for her own skip-the-frills wedding.

But in the two weeks between the quietly arranged marriage of Phyllis Lyon and Del Martin, and the high-profile nuptials of Rosie O'Donnell and Kelli Carpenter, more than 3,400 other same-sex couples jumped at the chance to make their unions official in San Francisco.

Following are two couples' stories.

Meeting over lunch

Before they were pronounced "spouses for life" on Feb. 13, Doug Okun, 38, and Eric Ethington, 37, already considered themselves as married as two men could be. The San Francisco couple had been together eight years since they met one day over lunch.

Four years ago, they had an elaborate outdoor commitment ceremony with 100 guests in Napa, exchanging vows they'd written themselves under a canopy decorated with symbols from Okun's Jewish upbringing and Ethington's Mormon background.

Still, reminders that they were less than husbands in the eyes of society were everywhere -- niggling indignities like being denied family discounts on car rentals and entrance fees at national parks, and real worries, such as knowing that if one died, the other wouldn't get survivor benefits.

The couple's resentment deepened when, after a two-year, bicoastal odyssey of fertility clinics and egg donors, a surrogate mother from West Virginia gave birth on Nov. 7 to their twins, Elizabeth and Sophia.

Shrugging off their rights they could stomach -- but not the rights of their children.

Out of Texas

Rebekah and Sandra Alcala got married in pajamas and matching Texas A & M sweat shirts. After driving 28 1/2 hours to San Francisco from their home in El Paso, Texas, and spending all day at the end of a line of 170 couples, that was all they could muster in the way of bridal wear.

Neither one minded. They see their romance as a fairy tale featuring two princesses who get to live happily ever after. They met four years ago in a gay and lesbian bar -- "rare for me because I don't like going out," Rebekah Alcala said -- and have been inseparable since. They live with her two sons, ages 8 and 12, in a cozy house with a whirlpool bath tub and eight pet turtles roaming a backyard illuminated by tiki torches and party lights.

"We got married as who we are, and that's what marriage is," she said. "You come as you are, you take that other person as they are."

There are things about their wedding they would change, if they could. San Francisco was lovely, the people they met lovelier still. And while the 12-year-old "gave away" both brides, they had to leave his brother behind because they didn't know if the situation would be volatile.

"Thank God for this mayor, thank God for him. It wouldn't have happened without him," said Rebekah Alcala. "It was just sad that I couldn't do it with my family there, that I had to travel across the United States to do something that I could have done in my own home if I was straight."