The Language of Love: Labels

I keep my favorite picture of Scott, smiling in his Army uniform, on my desk at work.

Scott has one of the best smiles I have ever seen on a human and it lights up his whole face. He can be rather serious looking most of the time but, when he smiles, well, it's like someone turned on the sun. It transforms his whole face and demeanor and, vicariously, usually does the same to the people around him.

Scott is one of those people who can make you smile when he smiles...no matter how serious and intimidating he appears at first.

That's why I like this particular picture. He's in camouflage, decked out with his badges showing him to be a Colonel, and infantryman, and an elite Army Ranger...but he's just got this huge smile on his face that shows him to be the man I know: serious, dedicated, hardcore, and also amazingly compassionate and kind. And pretty damn funny too.

My colleagues at the office know the picture and know Scott, through my stories, and always ask about him now that he is in Iraq. Uganda also sends a military presence there so several of them have brothers, sisters, husbands, or wives who have served or are currently serving. We usually start our day at 9:00AM with tea and stories about loved ones in Iraq. It is a bond we have in common.

Recently, though, I hired a new office administrator. Her name is Hadijah (Ha-dee-ja) and I already love her because she is incredibly competent and, in her first act upon working for me, organized my entire file system, office, and even personal life by getting my chaotic phone system under control.

Hadijah, however, had never met or seen Scott so his photo was her first question.

"Who is that man? Is he your husband? Is he your brother?" she asked.

Then came the issue. What do I call Scott?

Technically, he is my boyfriend. We are not married, not engaged, but are committed to each other as far as being a couple and not dating other people. But he doesn't live with me and we only see each other every few months...him in Iraq and me in Uganda. But we are definitely "together," so what do we call ourselves?

The other night, as I was reading his father's blog, I noticed that his Dad referred to me as Scott's "girlfriend." I asked Scott what he thought of the quotes.

"Well, I imagine, with me being in my mid-forties and you being in your mid-thirties, that my father might have a hard time labeling you as my 'girlfriend.' It all sounds a bit juvenile, doesn't it?" he asked.

He was right. I stumble upon those words as well.

So we re-visited our "labels."

How about "partners?" I asked.

Too homosexual, he said.

"Europeans use it to describe committed, heterosexual, relationships," I told him.

"Yeah, but Americans don't. I don't like 'partners'...it sounds like we have either been paired off in a kickball tournament or a spelling bee...I feel much more strongly about you than that...so, no, not 'partners,'" he insisted.

"Significant other?" I suggested.

"To me, that very term seems to convey a level of insignificance...don't you think?" he asked.

Yes, I agreed with him on that one.

"Lovers?" I tried.

"Isn't that obvious?" he asked.

Then, to make his point, "If it isn't obvious, then we have a problem."

No, it's probably clear, I agreed.

"Makes people uncomfortable anyway, I can't imagine introducing you as my 'lover' to my commanding officer...it's too...D.H. Lawrence or something...no, that's not going to work.." he decided.

"So what do I tell people?" I asked.

"I'm 'your'man'?" he suggested.

No, that is too basic, I insisted.

Once again, we returned to the drawing board.

"But how do you think of me?" he asked.

I thought for a few moments and then answered,

"My tough guy with the beautiful smile...the man I love...my warrior poet...?" Something like that??

"OK, well that is probably not going to work either, although I love those labels," he said.

We gave up.

Scott is Scott. I am me.

Back to basics...labels later.