Not long ago, I was talking to a gay man and a gay woman and I referred to Other as my “partner.” The gay man accused me of using that term to pass myself off as gay.
The fact is, Other is not my husband. We got together 40 years ago and have been monogamous (as far as I know) for all those decades, but neither of us ever wanted to get married—even when we had kids. In fact, staying single became a badge of honor. We have remained together far longer than friends whose elaborate weddings we attended.
But we’ve never solved the problem of how to refer to each other without getting mired in explanations. “Boyfriend” sounds too childish. “Significant other” too governmental. “Partner” too ambiguous (apparently). “My old man” too much like a flashback. “Roommate” too chilly. “Lover” too hot. “Other” works in this blog (thanks, J, for the suggestion) but not in real life.
Recently, Other and I have begun to discuss retirement. Other is thinking about retiring a few years before me, and we talked about whether we should in fact get married so I could put him on my health plan. I felt a moment of anticipatory relief: finally an end to the nomenclature problem. But it turns out that my insurance plans covers domestic partners in committed relationships—even heterosexual ones. Sigh.
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