This is, for the lack of a better word, a ramble. Recently, the man I love asked me what I expect out of the two of us. And I’ve been spending a lot of time trying to figure it out.
Short answer, I want to be the best of myself with him as he grows into the best of himself. For us to have each other’s back through everything- good, bad, ugly, neutral.
Now because we don’t live in an isolated jungle, there arises the issue of names and terms and explanations. I don’t want to call him my boyfriend and have it mean a certain set of things others have pre-decided for us in sitcoms and romance novels. He’s one of my best friends. He’s also my favourite person to sleep with, or gaze at, or work with. A person I talk to when I win a prize or torture myself in self-doubt. Someone I can spend hours in silence with. He mayn’t actually be the only person in some of these categories. But the fact remains that he exists across all of them. Is there ever then a “just this or that” in a relationship like ours?
We’ve spent several hours on multiple days, engaging our author-reader brains to come up with a word that does our situation justice. I am a sucker for neat definitions at times, not particularly for my own self, but because I do not have the energy to be incessantly bothered by a world used to compulsive verbalizing. He humours me in ways that no one does, and so we’ve delved into Bengali and Japanese, English of course, even Thai perhaps, tried and failed to come up with one blanket that covers all our curves and ridges in the fit we prefer between the two of us. The closest we’ve come is Bronte’s Wuthering Heights-
‘Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same‘
The trouble, much like for Catherine and Heathcliff, is that this is a concept a lot of people cross-examine to shreds but precious few understand. Earlier, they would insist on having me tick any one box only- boyfriend or lover, husband or maybe a friend with benefits. Even with improvements, all the 21st century has done is increase the number you can check off- you don’t get to go out of the box unless you really struggle. So, on the one hand, there are your societal markers of flowers and anniversaries, mandatory phone calls and meetings, sex frequencies and cunnilingus requirements, milestones and rings, and eventual babies. On the other, there is a dazzling world of no rules, no commitments, a do-as-you-please-whilst-(mind)fucking-people anarchy. Somewhere in the middle, people like me are left wondering why there doesn’t seem to be a better third option.
In a country like mine, we possibly have one of the largest proportion of science scholars knowing exactly how sex is an evolutionary tool and an act of pleasure, but somehow, for generation after generation, marriages are still meant to reflect a divine component. You don’t really get to squirm out of it saying you’ve found your heaven in building separate positive lives together. Not even when the Earth is already vomiting humans past carrying capacity and could really use a break from fresh cute-faced angels of doom. Say you don’t believe in marriage and you will immediately be tossed aside into the category of saucy, impertinent “sinners” who live to defy. Apparently you can still only be a binary (mostly) when it comes to romantic relationships, even in an era where gender and sexual fluidity are catching on.
I’m sure he and I cannot be the only people crossing linguistic boundaries in attempts to have a back-up term we can use to tell people how we’re our own brand of normal and yet special. And yes, at some point or the other, because we’ve not perfected social indifference, we do feel like telling some people how there’s nothing wrong with not wanting what everyone’s running after. How it’s not a case of not being able to achieve the targets everyone sets, but more like, how we’ve never seen the point of those targets anyway.
Long story short, I don’t see why the internet still shows up results that equates label less to a lack of commitment, or honesty or hard work. I don’t see why formalized romantic relationships are supposed to be a watertight box of virtue when I’ve witnessed firsthand that they aren’t. I don’t see why friendships should be any less worthy of validation and protection, vis-a-vis romantic relationships, or why they should necessarily even exist in disjoint circles or murky intersections. I don’t understand why love only wears labels, when I’m a thrift-store person anyway.