Hitched

Greg Eddie doesn't get jealous that his spouse spends most of his time with Vera Katz. He knows that when hubby Sam Adams leaves City Hall, he belongs to Greg. Sure, there are the social engagements. The gossip. The last-minute city emergencies that need tending to. But Greg knew all that when he started dating the mayor's chief of staff 10 years ago. And he can handle it.

The hunky, 37-year-old financial auditor met his future husband at the Princeton Athletic Club in December of '92, just before Sam's first week with Vera. "At the risk of being cliché, we met in the spa," says Greg. "I was always working out and could never understand how, at 5:15 pm, Sam was already in the hot tub." Sam, 39, admits that he'd feign a workout and head straight for the Jacuzzi just so he could get a look at Greg.

The two struck up a friendship and started going out for dinner after the gym. Occasionally Sam, the deal maker, would bum rides from Greg back to City Hall. Though both say they were attracted to each other, this routine continued for months without so much as a good-night kiss. "And then we were out for dinner one night, and I overheard Greg say that he was on a date," says Sam. Shortly after that eavesdropped revelation, Greg made a bold move and invited Sam to his house for dinner. Over enchiladas, a relationship was born.

For years, the two kept their relationship secret because they both were still closeted, though in completely different ways. Sam was out to only his family, while Greg had revealed his homosexuality to everyone but his blood relations, who live out of town. "Sam was very self-conscious, and I wanted to keep the curtains open," recalls Greg.

In early '95, the gossip-hungry WW let word slip of Sam's sexual orientation. Both agreed that the public outing was the perfect opportunity to finally emerge from secrecy. When their relationship surfaced in '96, Greg clipped subsequent articles and sent them to every member of his family. The next weekend, he drove north to Washington to talk to his parents. "My mother cried and cried and cried--for years. She likes to see us as 'good friends,'" laughs Greg. His father's reaction was less emotional and more concise. "He said, 'I guess that's what people do nowadays.'"

Recently, the couple bought a home in North Portland's Kenton neighborhood. It's their third home, and, over the years, they've made housing renovation a collective hobby. Greg admits he's more detail-oriented while Sam's more of a "big picture" thinker. "He sees garbage as potential," says Greg.

The couple says their mutual decision to register as domestic partners was a way to mark their 10th anniversary. None of the traditional matrimonial trappings for these no-nonsense fellows: no rings, cake or matching tuxes. But they did wear their hearts on their sleeves. On Valentine's Day, the two went to the Multnomah County Building and signed papers which documented that they "are each other's sole domestic partners and intend to remain so indefinitely and are responsible for each other's common welfare."

Both agree the occasion was anticlimactic.

"The waiting room on [HBO's prison drama] Oz has more soul than that room," says Sam of the area where couples fill out the legal papers.

The fireworks had to wait for the weekend getaway. That's when the honeymooners scurried off to Astoria and shacked up in a Best Western hotel room overlooking the ocean.

For that weekend, at least, Vera was on her own.

WWeek 2015