I agree with you; "partner" has an unusual feel in conversation, and I'm never sure what to make of it. I think for some folks this is a sore spot--that the phrase "wife", spoken by a man, is also an open admission of sexuality--so why can't we have a word like that, dammit? We're looking for a language which lets us express an integral part of our lives in a way which is normal to other people.
In "Covering", Kenji Yoshino talks about the strange dance that LGBT people go through. You continually gauge the situation--sometimes overtly, sometimes subconsciously. "Is it worth it?" "Can I give my boyfriend a hug at this service station?" "Should we just break down and get separate beds at the hotel? It'll be easier." "Have we told his Aunt yet, or are am I just a friend in town for Thanksgiving?"
In San Francisco, at least for me, this tension is practically absent--but in rural Minnesota and Wisconsin, it was a very real part of my life. Things are changing quick, though. :)
I agree with you; "partner" has an unusual feel in conversation, and I'm never sure what to make of it. I think for some folks this is a sore spot--that the phrase "wife", spoken by a man, is also an open admission of sexuality--so why can't we have a word like that, dammit? We're looking for a language which lets us express an integral part of our lives in a way which is normal to other people.
In "Covering", Kenji Yoshino talks about the strange dance that LGBT people go through. You continually gauge the situation--sometimes overtly, sometimes subconsciously. "Is it worth it?" "Can I give my boyfriend a hug at this service station?" "Should we just break down and get separate beds at the hotel? It'll be easier." "Have we told his Aunt yet, or are am I just a friend in town for Thanksgiving?"
In San Francisco, at least for me, this tension is practically absent--but in rural Minnesota and Wisconsin, it was a very real part of my life. Things are changing quick, though. :)