I confess. I AM responsible for ruining the American Marriage.

It is true. I cannot hold this in any longer. The guilt is killing me. I AM the one responsible to ruining the sanctity of marriage in this country. And here is my confession as to why:

I broke up Al and Tipper Gore. And Sandra Bullock and Jesse James. No, I am not a 50-something masseuse or a tattoo model with a thing for Nazi outfits. I'm just a gay man who just got engaged to his wonderful partner. Apparently, my union is a menace. According to the Family Research Council, "Gay marriage threatens the institutions of marriage and the family." So lock me up already, and for the sake of America, throw away the key.

I've tried to deny it. But faced with the prospect of even more finger-pointing in the wake of U.S. District Judge Vaughn Walker's Aug. 4 ruling against California's Prop 8, I've decided to come out and come clean. I'm claiming the pinko-threat label and wearing it with pride, like the Miss California USA tiara that Carrie Prejean wore until someone leaked those eight videos of her touching her pro-opposite-marriage private parts. Yes, I am responsible for the sorry state marriage is in. The Gores' "shocking" split was no surprise to me. Blame me for breaking America's sweetest heart. (I'd like to take credit for Bristol Palin and Levi Johnston's off-again engagement, but honestly, who except Bristol didn't see that coming?) Jenny and Mark "Appalachian Trail" Sanford, Mel and Robyn Gibson, Speidi — I put them all asunder. I'm here. I'm a home wrecker. Get used to it.

I'm an anti-nuclear-family activist. I think I was born this way. You might have been too. Just ask all the divorced parents in the country. Because since the parents of my generation tied the knot, the U.S. divorce rate has doubled. I know because I've seen my share. Gay apologists may say the culprit is the rise of no-fault divorce. But this is America, damn it, and someone somewhere must be at fault. That someone is me.

Real Americans agree that I'm dangerous. In "Gathering Storm," an ad produced by the National Organization for Marriage, a paid actress — but no doubt still a real American — with Sue Sylvester's haircut says I want to change the way she lives. Larry "Wide Stance" Craig voted to amend the Constitution to save the nation from my unholy matrimony. The THRICE-divorced Rush Limbaugh warned that "gay marriage would destroy the American family." I know Rush's ex-wives would agree with him. Thank goodness that the 8 TIME divorced Elizabeth Taylor married a gay man. I know she was trying to save him.

And, of course, what about the children? I am incapable of "providing a safe and secure and emotionally stable environment" for them, said Family Research Council co-founder George Rekers. Oh and in case you forgot, Mr. Rekers was the one nabbed in Miami airport with a paid escort from 'Rent-boy.com', who was hired to help Mr. Rekers 'carry his bags' across Europe. I admire George for instilling the values of a straight marriage in this young, impressionable 18-year-old gay boy, who I'm sure sacrificed the paycheck for the moral lesson. I know I would have. If only I could have been so lucky to carry his bags across Europe I might have changed for the better too.

I must admit, though, that the thrill is fading. It's getting too easy. Larry King is on his eighth shot at wedded bliss, and I've had a pretty good record with the Best Actress Oscar winners. I want to move on to pre-emptive attacks. I should try getting a proposition passed to ban ugly marriages. Surely the state has a legitimate interest in keeping the hideous from going forth, not to mention multiplying, and I'm sure I could get at least 51% of voters to agree with me. Those who say California's gay-marriage ban should stand make a completely logical point: majority rule should always trump minority rights — activist judges and their equal-protection clause be damned. I mean, what the unattractive do behind closed doors is O.K., I guess, but I don't want to have to see it. And I certainly don't want my tax dollars to promote the homely lifestyle.

Or should I just let them be? If two repellent people want to wake up next to each other every morning for the rest of their lives, it might turn my stomach, but is it really any of my business? It must be hard enough for them to get through the day — there are reflective surfaces everywhere — without having the federal government against them. Allowing dog-faced marriage doesn't mean I love my partner any less, and banning unsightly unions wouldn't give me a better chance at till death do us part. So relax, ugly people; you're free to pursue happiness with the appearance-challenged person of your choice. Love is love, after all, and that's beautiful enough.

So, I lay out my confession for the judge and jury to decide. I have no excuses left and the guilt has been eating me inside. I must come forward and right my wrongs. If further atrocities should occur, I would take the blame for them as well. And if your own relationship is on the rocks, well then you should blame me as well. I will try to get you a refund and set things 'straight' once again.