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So, a BBW and a vegetarian walk into a bar…
December 31, 2022
I have a boyfriend this New Year’s Eve. It’s been years, decades since I’ve said that. I’m trying to remember back. Ya. Decades.
I wouldn’t ordinarily call any man a boyfriend. I don’t like that term, it’s not safe. My last boyfriend, who was not really my boyfriend, I called him “my not really boyfriend”. Or I’d refer to him as “the fellow I’m dating…” But David is different. He’s my boyfriend. Goodness. You’d think in 2023, we’d have a better term for a relationship between a 59-year-old and a 61-year-old. “Partner” fits if I’m talking about a sexual partner. “Partner” doesn’t fit when I’m talking about someone in the broader relationship sense. That feels like married people that aren’t officially married, yet. We’re not there, yet. Geez. Me getting all caught up in semantics again…
We like each other about the same. In fact, he probably likes me a bit more. But that’s not true. I like him just as much, I’m just far more fearful. I’m afraid to really rest in it. He isn’t afraid. I’m not sure why. I’ve asked. He doesn’t know, for sure, but believes it’s because he’s able to live in the moment when he’s in a relationship. I was thinking it was because it’s so obvious what I’m about in relationships –once I decide to invest in someone, I don’t readily walk away. Maybe he knows I’m not going to walk…
