Kiss This

When it comes to true love, we'll admit it—the crappy economy has slapped the snark right outta us this year. And California's passage of Proposition 8, which banned same-sex marriages last November, also knocked the smile off our face. Why should we go on our usual rant about the lameness of Valentine's Day when it's become increasingly apparent we should all be working hard every day to fight for whom and what we truly love? So, instead, we rounded up a handful of Portlanders and asked them if we could snap a photo of them kissing whatever they love. Some of the answers were surprising and others cheesy—and one kinda creepy—but more important, they struck a universal chord. People love their partners and they love their pets. They love their jobs and communities, and they love beer (hey, it's Portland). And that's cool with us—love whom you love. OK, with the possible exception of 17-year-old in a City Hall restroom....

PHOTO BY VIVIAN JOHNSON

PHILLIP ROSS

Some people order those fancy grocery- and kids-carting Dutch cargo Bakfiets from overseas. Phillip Ross just made his own. In 2007, Ross and his business partner, Jamie Nichols, launched Metrofiets, the first Portland company to build and sell its own custom transport bikes, but the company kicked into high gear when research librarian Ross was laid off from his job last November. "This is so much more fun than anything I could imagine doing," Ross, 38, says. These days the pair make bikes with removable boxes, sometimes using a bike with a platform to cart everything from firewood to an industrial serger sewing machine around town. Ross and his wife, Maile Leithead, are also fond of carting around their 3-year-old, Ella, in one too. "We haven't owned a car for five years. People thought we were crazy," says Ross. "But [box bikes] are super-fun to ride. Ours are like riding a Cadillac." KC.

PHOTO BY VIVIAN JOHNSON

TOM DISRUD

How do you go from being the son of cheesemakers in Hollandale, Wis. (pop. 250), to being an openly gay pastor in Portland? According to Tom Disrud, "you bring all of life's experiences." Before his current job tending a Unitarian flock, he had been a student of philosophy, a copy editor at a daily newspaper and a labor organizer in Duluth, Minn. As a minister, Disrud believes it's important to be open about sexuality: "So often religion is used to condemn queer people. I want to send a message that you are loved, accepted and welcomed in the church for exactly who you are." The minister's single, so when he's not spending time with parishioners, he's probably hanging out with his current significant other—his pug, Lucy. JM.

PHOTO BY VIVIAN JOHNSON

NIKKI LEV

Let it be said that 30-year-old Portlander Nikki Lev is a lover. He loves his guitar and plays in the local rock band Benjamin Franklin Freeman. He loves shoes and strutting around in his high heels. He loves his "chickness" and is inspired by the fashions of anime schoolgirls, librarians and Debbie Harry. But above all, he loves being submissive. By day, Lev is a self-proclaimed "orders bitch" at local music distributor CDBaby.com; at night, he's attending to the whims of his partner, Ms. Julie Spanks. "She's my dominatrix," explains Lev. "I'm part servant, maid and right-hand person in her business stuff." Willful obedience as an expression of love? Don't knock it till you've tried it. SH.

PHOTO BY VIVIAN JOHNSON: PHOTO TAKEN AT PORTLAND TUB & TAN

JACOB & DIANE ANDERSON-MINSHALL

The Anderson-Minshalls spent their very first date soaking in a hot tub in Boise, Idaho, 19 years ago. But back then, they weren't Diane and Jacob. They were Diane and Susie. Five years ago, Susie underwent sex-reassignment surgery—though Diane, who edits best-selling lesbian mag Curve, says it hasn't changed their relationship all that much. These days the busy couple divide their time between San Francisco and Portland, where syndicated TransNation columnist Jacob hosts a monthly show on KBOO. And then there's their joint series of mystery novels to write. One change Jacob's transition has wrought is the couple's marital status, although the pair still self-identify as queer. "We've actually had five ceremonies so far," says Diane, listing off their domestic partnership fetes in West Hollywood, San Francisco and other spots. "Now, we are officially married. And they can't take this one away." KC.

PHOTO BY VIVIAN JOHNSON

JARED & BRIANNE MEES

In addition to running one of Portland's cutest stores—the adorable and closet-sized Tender Loving Empire in Northwest Portland—the Meeses are a two of Portland's cutest people. Seriously. The couple, who landed in Portland in 2006 after stints in California and Panama, were wed in 2003. Don't worry, they're not one of those uncomfortably mushy married couples (though they admit that their first kiss came seven years ago this Valentine's Day), so they won't be making out behind the counter when you come say hi to them at TLE, where local records, screenprinted T-shirts and zines abound. CJ.

PHOTO BY VIVIAN JOHNSON

TAD KEPPLER

"To the woman that crapped in my car..." read a Jan. 13 post on Portland Craigslist's Men Seeking Women board. The author was Tad Keppler, a laid-off marketing and I.T. guy determined to give a date-gone-foul a second chance. Back in December, Keppler took a Southeast Portland woman—whom he met on Craigslist—to the Northeast Broadway McMenamins. "I thought we had chemistry...sharing that basket of Cajun Tots while drinking the Terminator Stout," he says. But afterward, while the pair were driving in his blue VW Passat, it happened: "There was a little 'poof' sound and she got all flushed," he remembers. "And she said, 'I think I'm going to have to go home.'" Keppler tried to call and email his lady numerous times with no response. So he turned to Craigslist to call her out. "I wanted to know I did everything I could to let her know it was cool," he says. "Everybody has gambled on a fart and lost." Two weeks ago, the woman finally contacted Keppler. She told him to "move on." And he is—Keppler moved to Seattle last week in the hopes of finding a new job. But WW still salutes him—either for his ability to make up a damn funny Internet joke or his determination to pursue a whiff of true love, no matter how crappy the situation. KC.

PHOTO BY VIVIAN JOHNSON

DEBORAH KAFOURY

A lifelong Portlander from a politically connected family, Deborah Kafoury got her first library card when she was "7 or 8" years old. After taking office in January as a newly elected county commissioner, she now sets the library's budget and helps oversee operations. But she still loves the library's 17 locations for simple reasons. "They are so accessible, and they are warm and inviting and a great place to take your children," Kafoury says. It all sounds corny until you remember Multnomah County has the nation's second-busiest library system, after Brooklyn, N.Y. In a city that loves its books, Kafoury's romance is a perfect fit. JP.

PHOTO BY VIVIAN JOHNSON

BETTINA VON HAGEN

When Bettina von Hagen takes a stroll through the woods, she doesn't just see trees. She sees an investment opportunity. As the CEO of Ecotrust's 3-year-old for-profit forest management company, the 50-year-old former banker is essentially in charge of a timber company that's all about helping forest ecosystems. The company buys up Northwest land, much of it once owned by big industrial timber giants, and aims to redevelop it. "It's a different type of forestry," she explains. "One that is focused not only on high-quality timber, but water and biodiversity and scenic vistas and recreation opportunities...." It's too early to tell how Ecotrust's gamble will work out; it'll take five or 10 years to determine how the forests are reacting. But von Hagen, who was born in Peru but has lived in Oregon for two decades, says Ecotrust's methods can create jobs for rural Oregonians. "Banana slugs are indicators of forest health...," she mused, when we asked her to kiss something that represented her vision of happy forests. "If I could convince people that this kind of forestry would best serve this region. I would happily kiss a banana slug." KC.

PHOTO BY VIVIAN JOHNSON

LaRONDA FAMODU

When LaRonda Famodu and her family moved from the Washington, D.C., area to Hillsboro a few years ago (her husband, Olugbenga, took a job at Intel), it took some getting used to. "I'd walk into Target, and I was the only black person I saw," she says, laughing. "It's just weird." Although she loved Portland, she felt that her two kids, Ethan, 6, and Aliyah, 2, were seriously lacking in black playmates. So she started the Portland chapter of Mocha Moms last year, a weekly meeting for moms of color and their kids to hang out, talk and problem-solve. The group currently boasts a core of eight moms, but LaRonda is always on the lookout for more (portlandmochas.org). "I'm in the Hillsboro Moms club, too—it's great, but I'm still the only black chick," she explains. "Now, with [Mocha Moms], I have somebody to ask, 'Where should I go get my hair done in Washington County?" KC.

PHOTO BY JASON QUIGLEY

FRED & TOODY COLE

Portland power couple Fred and Toody Cole have been married for 41 years, and playing music together—in legendary punk bands the Rats, Dead Moon and current trio Pierced Arrows—for nearly as many. Known for furious, marathon-length live shows and a DIY ethic that finds them playing dirty rock clubs around the world to this day, there is no more iconic an image than these two lovebirds in full rock assault. And they'll totally make out on cue if you ask nicely. Love always was the punkest emotion. CJ.

Watch The Kiss Fest!

Visit http://www.flickr.com/groups/kissthis/ to add your own smooching photo.

SEND A SECRET KISS

So you want to declare your love/lust but aren't quite ready to declare your identity? Local interactive art director Will Markusen knows how harmful it is to keep those feelings bottled up, so he created hadtosay.com as an outlet for your secret crush (as well as your secret peeve or your secret road rage).

Just log in, create a Valentine message, print out the notification card, and finally hide the card in a place where the object of your anonymous-but-not-in-a-creepy-way-you-swear desire will find it. He, she or it can then type in the message key and PIN at hadtosay.com, read the message and respond. The site can email or text you whenever there's a response, and soon it will even give you the ability to email your sentiments anonymously.

Check out the feed of recently submitted messages below, then head on over to HadToSay and unburden yourself of the Love That Dare Not Speak Its Name (Not Quite Yet). Maybe your beloved or belusted one will respond, and then maybe--just maybe--you'll finally grow a pair and pick up the phone already.

WWeek 2015