Joe My God writes in his blog about “What is a Husband?”, reflecting on the shifting terminology surrounding gay relationships. Are we lovers? partners? boyfriends? husbands? “special friends”?

My now-husband and I had a wierd moment with the “partner” problem at my grandmother’s “visitation” (a pleasant euphamism if there ever was one) several years ago.

My father and I are not at all close, and the occasion of my grandmother’s death was the first time I had seen him in two or three years. When I introduced Alan as my “partner” he didn’t blink an eye, but he also had more important things on his mind, and I don’t know if he got it or not.

My stepmother arrives somewhat later, much to the distress of the rest of the family, who consider her a cross between the Wicked Witch of the West and Hannibal Lecter. I greet her, and introduce Alan as my “partner”:

Me: “Julie, this is my partner, Alan.”
She: “Oh, business partner?”
Me: “Oh no. We live together. We own a house together in Chelsea.”
She: “Oh, that’s great. You know, when I was in college my girlfriends and I lived together to share expenses.”
Me: “Right.”
She: “So, you must have the girls over all the time, huh?”
Me: “You know, I think its time that we were going.”

I make a dash for the coats, leaving Alan in Julie’s considerable, jungle-red clutches.

She turns to Alan and repeats, “So, you must have the girls over all the time, huh?”

Alan: “Not as much as you might think.”

Denial is a wide river. I’m still paying for abandoning him to the stepmonster.