Some people may think of her as my wife or my spouse. I often refer to her as my partner after many years of that being the most appropriate title. But, I will always think of her as my lover.
Perhaps, this helps with the eternal romantic notion that we are something special to each other. She could never be my ball-in-chain or the wife. She is the one I took to my bed and relished her touch and companionship. It will always be true. And, she will always be my lover.
Ronnie tells me that it is a more personal term for her and not the best for public essays and the like. Back in the 80s, in the dark ages, we all referred to our partners as our lovers. Partners was such a stiff and formal term. Best used in doctor’s offices or at work. Perhaps, we didn’t live with them yet. Perhaps, we didn’t yet have some sort of understanding. As lesbians, we just referred to our significant others as lovers. Long term, short term, it didn’t matter.
It probably contributes to that quaint thinking that lesbians are inherently sexual beings and that is first and foremost the point of our relationships. But, you have to know women’s sexuality to know that sex itself is not always the point.
A male friend once told me that women need to be in the mood and men just need to be in the room. I’m sure that is an oft told line. Another one is about the U-Haul lesbians. This one goes that lesbians just have to spend one night together before they decide to back the U-Haul truck up and move in together. Both of these lines are silly, of course. It takes all kinds.
A friend of mine asked me what kind of car I drove. I told her a Subaru. She said, “Ah, the cars of lesbians...with a dog in the back.” Oh, probably. It’s true in my case. I read this great article about why lesbians drive Subarus. Apparently, the Subaru company actually marketed to lesbians in the 90s as one of their target groups.* I’m here to say it worked. Certainly, in the Pacific Northwest.
Once, I met another friend’s older mother. My partner and I stayed at her mother’s house with our two dogs. My friend told me later that her mother asked, “Why do lesbians always have big dogs?” It’s hard to say. Could it be because they have large tongues?
Anyway, my lover of nearly 30 years is sleeping in the living room chair next to me. It is after eleven, and she has drifted away. She didn’t notice when I took the dog out for her nightly run. I left a yellow sticky on her stomach so if she woke up she would know for sure where the dog and I had gone. Not that there’s a whole lot of other options late at night. Still, a little confirmation keeps one from worrying.
I see her there. She often naps a bit in the evening. I, on the other hand, often nap in the chair in the morning. I guess the good news is at least one of us is awake and alert during the day. It’s part of what makes us a good team. If one of us doesn’t get it, the other will. Just ask our daughter.
I look at her napping. Sometimes, she has a little frown. Sometimes, her face is without care reclined there with her eyes closed. I think to myself, “Ah, my lover is sleeping in the chair again.”
Even in my darkest days, I knew I loved her, although I forgot that she loved me for a time. Such are the vagaries of Depression. I know with total certainty that she is my lover. Lover, as a noun, is one who loves. That fits the bill perfectly.
Good night.
Joceile
9.1.18
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