Words Of Love

I am on a mission.

I need to find a word. Or make one up. Or spatchcock a few meaningful syllables together to convey just the right meaning.

I need to replace the word “boyfriend.”

Don’t panic. I don’t want it removed from the lexicon altogether. Merriam and Webster can stop breathing into paper bags. I think it is perfectly appropriate for example, for Scott’s seventeen-year-old daughter to have a boyfriend.

It’s just that calling Scott my boyfriend makes me feel girlishly simple and coquettish.

I need a new word. I have a friend who passed along a new word of sheer brilliance. I was calling Lars my ex-husband. My ex. My first husband. My former husband. The kids’ father (and a few things not so acceptable to say in polite company…) The word I use now is “wasband.” As in “He was my husband.” Perfect. No one misunderstands and it does not completely giveaway all the acrimony. All it says is that he was my husband and is not now and I am not exactly crying about it, so let’s leave it at that, shall we?

It’s the first word of its kind that I’ve liked. Most words say too much. Too much about your business, your intentions. Even if you are very proud and quite excited about them. Who you are to another person is a relatively private matter in most cases. Does the car dealer need to know that person is going to be your spouse? Can’t he just be the guy who is helping you with all the red tape because he can?

I remember having to remind myself to call Lars my fiancé. I didn’t care for the word at all. We had wedding plans and I wore a diamond on my left hand…shouldn’t those clues and the way we treated each other be enough? Couldn’t I have just introduced him as “This is Lars?” and skip the labels?

Maybe that had more to do with Lars than labels. Who knows.

I remember my company president at an old job finding the love of his life, finally. He was a great guy and clearly in love. He’d had a few wives but he’d found himself a keeper. The real deal. He called her his “squeeze.” Cheeky, Chief. Very cheeky. Couldn’t we just use her first name? We’d probably piece the story together from the content and she’d still have a little dignity.

No disrespect to the guy, though. All the traditional words are all wrong. If not boyfriend or finace, what? Partner? Business partner? Same sex partner? Partner in the egg toss? You’d always end up explaining. And why?

Lover? Eeewww. Must everyone know you are sleeping together? Betrothed? No thank you, Your Highness.

Does “friend” do it? Aren’t we at least that? Who needs to know more?

Charlotte evidently committed the social crime of the decade last year when she’d bumped into J. while out with some folks. She’d introduce him as her “sister’s friend.”

Fightin’ words! J. expected to be described as someone with more clout. More social status. More inside track. A position of distinction.

Kiss my ass in Gimbel’s window! You are in a pretty distinct position now, aren’t you, J.?

So now, as I skid toward my 50s and so does Scott, I am, as I’ve said, on a mission. I need to find the word that says Scott is important. We belong to each other. We mean the world to one another and that’s all that matters. Whether we have plans to get married or not – we count, take precedence, have dibs. It’s no one’s business if we are sleeping together or what our future plans are. And darn it, we are old enough to have plans and keep them to ourselves if we want.

How can the English language lack such and important word?

I will take matters into my own hands. And onto my own lips.