Love Bites: Another Word

Before moving to Edinburgh, I had a leaving party.  A friend asked me if it was awkward that Anna was there. I refer to Anna as my wife. We’re both lesbians, and can be found holding hands in supermarket aisles or kissing on a dancefloor. She’s one of my closest friends and we’ve never been romantically involved, but we have the same intimacies as a married couple. My friend thought that we were legally married, my leaving due to our divorce. While her assumption was funny, it made me consider the lack of words English has to describe the people in my life and the distinct connections we share. 

My current housemate Jo often calls me her partner. She says it’s the easiest way to describe me to others, despite her having a boyfriend. We’re more than housemates and feel too old for the schoolyard term “best friends”. With Jo and I there’s more dependency, an assumption that we’ll be there for each other. I’ve never liked the term platonic partner, perhaps because it implies that romantic relationships are the most important. Why does sex raise someone above lifelong friends?

It’s a group thing, too. Anna and I lived with two friends and we functioned as a family. Dinners were eaten together, with portions kept in tupperwares for anyone out that evening. There was no such thing as making just one cup of tea. How do you categorise these people? When I say I’m visiting family, people assume I’m visiting those I’m biologically related to but so often, I’m simply referring to my friends. How do I differentiate between them? 

I’m lucky to have such a varied group of people in my life. We’ve met at school, university, en route to protests. We aren’t connected by blood, but share traditions and food, grief and love. We have freed ourselves from the constraints of typical relationships; I’m just searching for that freedom in language – a word to call them by.