It is stunning to me that this far into my relationship with Preppy, we’re still introducing each other to significant people in our lives. A few nights ago we met up with old friends of his from out of town to grab a few beers and maybe play some pool. Everyone else was already in a booth when we arrived. After the girls squealed and the guys gave Preppy firm handshakes, he introduced me.“Y’all, this is my fiancée.”
This was followed by more squeals and handshakes, but my head was already elsewhere entirely. A few months ago, I proposed, gave him a ring, he said yes. That means I’m a fiancée. Shit. I didn’t change his label. I’ve still been calling him my “boyfriend”, which sounds like we’re going to prom together, not like we have a mortgage and are currently planning a wedding.
Over the next few days I tried to use the new label, but every time it sounded like I was trying to awkwardly drop a foreign expression into my speech, like when Madonna says she and her family were “On holiday” instead of “On vacation”, like any other woman from freakin’ Michigan would say.
I’m a very pro-label person. I know that’s not a popular standpoint, because labels box you in and all that stuff. My buddy Scott, the transgendered performance artist, has built an entire career writing on the subject of how you can’t label him. I tried to be open-minded about that, but in the end I’ve just labeled him “Scott, the transgendered performance artist who doesn’t like labels.” He has become defined by his resistance to definition. That’s heavy stuff.
Preppy and I have been trying out churches, to see if we can find a good fit for both of us. I fell in love with an Episcopal parish that was very polished and ornate. That sense of formality happened to be what I liked about it. I don’t want a just-folks minister who tells everyone to “Just call me Debbie.” When it comes to who has Jesus on speed dial if I need some answers, I’d prefer someone I call Reverend or Preacher over Debbie. It just sounds wrong to me, like when I hear a nine year-old call his parents by their first names. If I’d ever tried calling my father “Cleve” when I was a kid, there would have been dire consequences. Authority figures have labels, like “Dad”, or “Senator”, or “Mistress of Pain”, as a sign of respect and a nod to tradition. And darn it, I think it really helps clear things up for people if you can give them a few keywords to associate with you.
For example, I label myself as “a writer”. That lets you know I spend a lot of time in a room by myself transcribing imaginary voices, that I probably smoke and/or drink lots of coffee, that I’m a little narcissistic, and I have no money and bad credit.
All of these things are true.
I am also “gay”, which is different from saying “queer”. I called myself “queer” when I had sex with women too. Eventually I retired from that, so I updated the label. I recently acquired a car and had to stop calling myself “a pedestrian”, which marked a huge change in my life, more significant in my mind than giving up that whole sleeping-with-ladies thing, because I actually miss being a pedestrian. The ladies not so much.
And now, another label is updated. I’m a fiancée, which doesn’t quite roll of the tongue because it’s this totally unprecedented event in my life. As we set a budget, and begin making plans about locations and attendants (did I mention my wedding is going to be fucking huge, or did you already guess that?), the label begins to feel more real. It’s very likely I’ll get used to it just in time to switch again and start calling him my “husband”. And when people hear that label, it’ll tell them something very specific about the two of us and our life together, and I like that. Just like “writer”, or “gay”, or “Southern”, it’s not really a label. It’s a TITLE- proof of who I am, and what I demand the world recognize.
And now, another label is updated. I’m a fiancée, which doesn’t quite roll of the tongue because it’s this totally unprecedented event in my life. As we set a budget, and begin making plans about locations and attendants (did I mention my wedding is going to be fucking huge, or did you already guess that?), the label begins to feel more real. It’s very likely I’ll get used to it just in time to switch again and start calling him my “husband”. And when people hear that label, it’ll tell them something very specific about the two of us and our life together, and I like that. Just like “writer”, or “gay”, or “Southern”, it’s not really a label. It’s a TITLE- proof of who I am, and what I demand the world recognize.
