Etiquette questions arise for a gay spouse

Etiquette questions arise for a gay spouse

Among all the artists and the additional contingency of an
upcoming performance exchange project in Mexico City, I am the only
gay spouse. While this will allow me to have time alone, it
presents definitional and etiquette problems for which I have not
yet found a solution.

Straight and gay friends know us as Raúl and Luis, but
introductions to strangers require a fast read on the audience. An
accepted gay term is lover, but to me that sounds like we are
always hopping in and out of bed.

I have always been devoted to my studies and Luis is usually
very busy, either touring nationally with his solo performance
piece or teaching. We work and we both travel, so, lover is
certainly not an accurate description of our relationship. I also
think said term conveys a lack of permanence and seriousness.
Equally, boyfriend sounds too jaunty and too transient.

There is significant other. This sounds like a census term, and
there are several other significant people in my life. I’ve also
heard of partner-in-life, which sounds like I’ve entered a written,
binding contract with a notary public present. There is companion,
which sounds like one of us is either elderly or a dog.

Most of the time I say friend. But I try to say it with a
capital F. Until we decide on a term and define it for the world,
no phrase will feel comfortable. Gay men and lesbians need a term
that would do for us what Ms. did for women.

Having started a new internship several months ago and being
openly gay, I still have to wrestle with the proper response to the
question, "Are you married?" Possibilities: "No, I am gay." "Yes, I
am gay." "No, I am not married, but I am in a relationship."

I have solved the problem this way: If gay people ask me if I am
married, I say yes, because it means settled down, not dating. If
straight people ask me, I say, more or less, "We do not have a
license, but we have a joint savings account."

"My friend and I; Luis and I; We…" Since it is difficult to
swallow pronouns and I will not lie, I really have to tell people
that I am gay. (Everyone has been surprised).

At times I would like it, though, if people would gossip just a
little more. I do not like having to "come out" often. Let me be
clear about the following: I have a responsibility to "come out,"
therefore, I will. I just wish they would all talk to each other,
so I did not have to explain to each person about my
relationship.

People respect my privacy, which I do appreciate, but I feel
like I am revealing so much in a little conversation. What I have
to say feels so different from "Yes, my wife is a lawyer, and we
have been married for four years."

We see each other’s families fairly often. Luis has tried, for
ease of conversation, to refer to my sister as sister-in-law, but
he always ends up explaining more rather than saying less. He will
say I visited my sister-in-law, wherein follows a discussion, "I
didn’t know you had a brother." A conversational shortcut then
becomes a rather lengthy detour. It is however, quite natural for
Luis’ three-year-old godson to call me "uncle," and fun for Luis’
adult goddaughter to refer to me as "Uncle Raúl."

Until recently, I was usually referenced but not named in the
local press. I have occasionally said to photographers taking our
picture, "Please don’t refer to me as ‘and friend,’ I have a name
and will tell you if you ask." However, I ascribe little malice to
the anonymity I am usually accorded. I think this is often done out
of respect for my privacy, with editors somehow assuming that a
respectable person would not want his name printed associated with
something less than respectable, like a gay relationship.

Most papers respect the old rules of the closet and are probably
following the wishes of a majority of well-known gay people for
whom the occasional column mention was designed to repel people by
making something in the relationship sound bad, like "live-in
heart-throb" or "studly boyfriend."

We are making progress. Sometime this year I acquired a name. I
recently accompanied Luis to Boston. He was interviewed in the
local newspapers, television and radio and what appeared was a very
nice account: "… Luis was traveling and sharing this experience
with his companion, Raúl Añorve …" It was normal, and I
really appreciated that. Similarly, we received an invitation to a
formal dinner/fund-raiser party this past summer; the guest list
and invitation read as follows: "Luis Alfaro and Raúl
Añorve."

There is an entire category of situations in which I find myself
telling strangers a lot more of my personal business than perhaps
they wanted to know. This is a subset of "I don’t care what they do
in private, as long as they don’t flaunt it."

The longer we are together, the less inclined I am to fudge a
response to guard the inquirer’s feelings. Shopping for clothes,
the clerk wanted to steer me to a different size. I informed him it
was not for me; it was for my boyfriend. OK, I could have lied and
said it was a gift for my brother, right? Well, no.

The longer we are together, the less inclined I am to mute my
behavior for others’ benefit. We recently attended my straight
friends’ wedding. After dinner, everyone danced. Luis looked at me
and said, "should we?" "Yeah," I said. "It’s a wedding; you’re
supposed to dance."

I occasionally travel and attend formal functions with Luis,
despite a suggestion that this is something with which people
"might not be comfortable." In doing so, I try to define a role for
myself that will help people respect me, our relationship, and in a
way serve as a model for other gay spouses.

I hope that eventually I will achieve the recognition that other
spouses have. Instead of my mere existence being a topic of
discussion, perhaps someday we can move on to the important things,
like all the food I will eat in Mexico City.

Añorve is a full-time UCLA student taking graduate level
courses. His column appears on alternate Fridays.