For a long time I didn't know how to refer to Eric. My boyfriend? That sounded too Sweet Valley High....what are we fifteen? Is he going to ask me to go steady next? We have a kid, for crying out loud. My baby daddy? That implied too much drama. My partner? People thought I was gay. Maddie's father? That sounded like we had split up. A coworker and I once jokingly came up with the term Partner in Sin, but that shortens to P.I.S. so that was out too.
When people assumed he was my husband, I didn't try to correct them. What was I going to say? "Oh no, he's not my husband. We live together and have a child, but we wouldn't actually marry one another. Can you imagine? How pedestrian! Ha, ha, ha...." It was just much easier to let everyone assume it was so. Bygones.
This was actually kinda funny when we started telling coworkers and other acquaintances that we were getting married because everyone already thought we were. We got a lot of, "Oh, really???"s
When I told a neighbor, he said, "Oh..." paused a moment, and exclaimed, "Hey! We're not married either!" jerking his thumb across the street to where he and his girlfriend/baby mama/partner/p.i.s live. All right, high fives, neighbor man!!
So maybe it's more common than we thought.
Now here we are, legally joined for eternity in the eyes of God and the wonderful state of Vermont, and it's your birthday. And there will be no "hubby", "hubster", or "the hubs" for me. I'm proud to simply call you my husband.
Happy birthday, husband.
|Photo by Jaclyn Schmitz Photography|
(P.S. Eric, I am now the same age as you were when we first started dating. And I kept thinking, "He's so old." I was wrong, you weren't old then. But you are old now. I love you just the same.)