By John Johnston
The Cincinnati Enquirer

Everyone has a story worth telling. At least, that's the theory. To test it, Tempo is throwing darts at the phone book. When a dart hits a name, a reporter dials the phone number and asks if someone in the home will be interviewed.

At home in Hamilton, 50-year-old Marcy Blaydes' broken right foot rests in a purple cast.

She fell recently while tending to her dog, Precious. But as misfortunes go, Blaydes has seen far worse.

She was 20 when her spleen was removed due to a rare blood disease. She was 30 when told she had uterine and cervical cancer. And seven years ago she learned she had breast cancer.

Blaydes, a records specialist for Fluor Fernald, survived it all, and this: a marriage to an abusive man who beat her.

Of that, she says: "I made a lot of stupid mistakes before I realized my own sexuality. I tried to do the right thing for a lot of years. It took me a long time to figure it out."

What she finally figured out, she says, is that she's a lesbian.

She recalls coming out to her parents, and hearing her stepfather say: "Your mother and I would rather see you with a woman who treats you good than with a man who beats the hell out of you."

Fast forward to the summer of 2000. Blaydes faced another severe health problem, a degenerative disc. She knew upcoming surgery would keep her on her back for several months.

After all she'd been through, surely her fortunes were due to change for the better, she thought.

Marcy Blaydes (left) and Staci Biagini live with Staci's daughter Casey Biagini, 18 (front), in Hamilton with their dog, Precious. The Cincinnati Enquirer/GARY LANDERS

Before the surgery, she bought a computer in order to stay in touch with people, day or night. She began logging on to gay and lesbian chat rooms. "I was trying to make friends from all time zones," she says.

Online, she met a chat-room host, a woman named Staci Biagini, who lived in western Pennsylvania.

They exchanged messages. And soon became fast friends.

Like Blaydes, Biagini had been married to a man and was now divorced. Both women had children: Biagini, two daughters; Blaydes, a son. Biagini was in the final stages of a relationship that was ending badly.

After a few weeks of communicating online and by phone, Blaydes invited Biagini to southwest Ohio.

"If we get along, that's wonderful," Blaydes recalls saying. "If we don't, you've got a friend, somewhere to stay until you can get on your feet."

Biagini had not even seen a photo of Blaydes when she arrived in September 2000.

Although both women had been completely honest with each other online, "I was fatter than she thought," Blaydes says with a smile.

"It's not all about the looks," Biagini, who is 42, says. "When we met and we hugged ... there was just something there."

Eight months later, the couple participated in a holy union ceremony - "to us, it's a wedding," Blaydes says - performed by Rev. Bonnie Daniel of New Spirit Metropolitan Community Church.

The women are members of the predominantly gay congregation in Northside.

Blaydes' adult son walked his mother down the aisle and gave her away. Biagini's older daughter, Casey, also attended. She is 18, and lives with her mother and Blaydes. (Biagini's other daughter lives with her ex-husband.)

The state of Ohio does not recognize same-sex marriage.

But after nearly four years together, the women say they're not much different than any married couple.

"We have our bad days. Life is not perfect," says Biagini, who works for a window manufacturer. But, "I would do it all over."

Adds Blaydes: "I feel our love grows deeper and deeper all the time."

E-mail jjohnston@enquirer.com