Girls have boyfriends, academics have partners

Back in the day, even though I was only seeing the Marxist and liking him dearly, I refused to call him my boyfriend, much to his distress. He demanded to know a reason and I could not give him one. I simply just did not want to call him as such. But then I decided to move with him to LA so I decided I should start calling him something and chose "boyfriend" so I was his "girlfriend," but then when we got here, we became "partners," the update to the totally gay, stiff and mouthy: "significant other".

At first I liked to think that it really was because we were partners; we split expenses, supported each other in our endeavors and formed a small union in the world. Then I realized, I was childish as the boyfriend/girlfriend translation. Technically, a girl or a boy is someone who is not yet a woman or a man suggesting immaturity whether in body or mind. Of course, in conversation, we often say, You should meet this girl, meaning woman and not a child.

A partner is gender neutral allowing it to be used as a euphemism for gays and lesbians. The Marxist and I are not gay, but at times I often wonder if we are. We both pursue same sex relationships, but have yet to be in a sustainable one. Once in awhile I joke if we are in a functionally gay relationship and we just do not know it. I think there is something sexy and mysterious for the first few seconds you mention "partner" since it is immediately unknown if your partner is opposite sex or same sex, making the person you are speaking to wonder if you are heterosexual or homosexual.

According to the Urban Dictionary, we fit most of the criteria for being partners. Although we most certainly inhabit an apartment, we often call it our "space" as in his and hers. We sleep on a very new Sealy mattress with an antique wood frame. However, I do confess to our "ethical' or sustainable diets of organic vegetables, Free-range meat and fair-trade coffee." It's true: we buy local. We heart organic. We grind organic, fair-trade, shade grown coffee. Once, the Marxist bought chicken, I was thoroughly disgusted until I saw it was responsibly purchased from the overpriced Whole Foods, thus was organic, free-range, no hormone and no antibiotic meat. What really flipped my cookies was this near exact description of a male partner: "Often, a male 'partner' can be recognized by the presence of frappichino glasses, fashionably-unfashionable clothes, 'old-man' or 'quasi-military' hats, a deliberately messy hair-do odd facial hair patterns and a generally wimpish and elitist attitude." Let me unpack that. The Marxist has spent considerable time trying to turn our space into a salon, stocking good tea and coffee, good books, buying a glass water pitcher, and an immersion frother. He made the best almond milk lattes and also learned how to make chai from scratch. Most of his clothes were from cheap thrift stores in Chicago which mean dozens of threadbare polo shirts and corduroys. I took him shopping at Wasteland because I couldn't stand the way he looked anymore. While watching Blame it on Fidel, there is a scene where the main character, a little girl, faces a bunch of "revolutionaries." They could have all been the Marxist's friends or close relatives marked by the unkempt hair. The following also rang quite true: "A 'partner' is generally chosen on their potential to advance one's own status in a given scene. A leader of an activist group, a drummer of a post-rock band or the focus of a peer group is generally considered prime 'partner' material. Having a good 'partner' increases your ability to name-drop, facilitates ladder climbing and makes for a fashionable conversation piece." I am very proud of the Marxist for his early success and how important he already is in his chosen field, not that I have the opportunity to name drop yet, but perhaps some day I will be able to say, Oh him? Yes, we used to co-habit a space. The Marxist, on the other hand, loves to mention that I am a dominatrix even though he has no real interest in the scene.

I remember very distinctly being introduced at a party as the Marxist's partner and somehow that made me feel simultaneously proud to be considered an equal, yet also sad that this intellectual equality negated romance and screw-me-to-the-wall sex.

Sigh.