Fancy

Now that we’re engaged, I’m up against the title thing again. (See original problem here.) I never did fully sort out how to refer to R when we were, uh…is it ‘dating’ if you’ve been living together for five years? I did an extended trial run of “El Señor”, mostly while ordering at Starbucks, but R vetoed that as weird. Now that we’re engaged, that whole exercise, all that effort, is out the window.

Now it’s “fiancé”. But, of course, that’s not working for me either. It’s too…frilly. Fiancés are guys who belong to country clubs and think they’re hilarious rebels when they wear Tretorns with their seersucker suits. “Fiancé” is just too… Hell, I don’t know: it’s just not me. I’m from New England, for God’s sake.

So I’ve settled on “fancy” as my ironic compromise. R is my fancy. Which is true, really. I like it and I can live with it until the wedding. I have no problem with “husband”, for the record, so we should have smooth sailing from there on out. I might change my mind though when I get there. I’ll keep you posted.