In reference to my good Catholic upbringing, it has been 36 days since my last confession – on Beau Dacious, that is. You know, the one where I admitted to getting that funny feeling around a certain gentleman. Well, several weeks have now gone by since meeting said gentleman and I am pleased to report that he – and his undeniably beautiful abs – remains a fixture. So much so that I did what I only do when a date turns into something markedly more significant: I told my mother. Naturally I put a big caveat on the news – let’s not entertain fantasies of finally marrying off her 30-something daughter just yet – but I did relent and send her a photo of mister. Perhaps she mistook him for a puppy because her response was “he looks healthy”.
It’s all quite exciting and lovely at the moment but my healthy mister and I have agreed to take things slowly. Though I have to be honest, I am not exactly sure what that means. Does it mean we should only just have graduated from holding hands? Does the fact that I entrusted him with a set of my house keys around week 4 make me liable for a speeding fine? And what about ‘the others’ – at what point should we be declaring that ours is an exclusive arrangement?
You see going slow is all good and well, and is the reason I keep telling people – mother dearest included – that “nothing is official yet” but truth be told I am starting to wonder at which point it might be considered acceptable to require some form of relationship classification. Yes, gag, I know, defining it does feels annoyingly suburban which is why I placate myself by saying that much of it has to do with semantics: what on earth should I be calling the man when I refer to him in conversation? Calling him my ‘friend’ feels insufficient, and ‘lover’ always makes me feel a bit wanton, but use of the term ‘boyfriend’ or ‘partner’ feels like it should be preceded by some form of discussion and mutual agreement. It’s all terribly serious, you know. But when – and how – does one broach that topic, if at all? I may just throw up a bit if I find myself saying the words “so where is this going” or, worse still, “we need to talk” but years of bad Hollywood romcoms might just put words in my mouth if I am not careful.
Fortunately I have grown a bit of a ‘love spine’ over the past two years so I am not feeling particularly vulnerable or agitated. On the contrary I think I’m doing pretty well at going with the veritable flow and just enjoying the company of a delightful man who seems to like me too. However, I have now gone so far as to clear my dance card and I guess I just want confirmation that this is not an outrageously premature thing to do.
What do you reckon? Should this kind of thing be organic or is a conversation required. And if so, are we there yet?