Psst... I think I'm not a virgin any more. Last night was a first. I was so nervous, but it was good for me. I think he really enjoyed it too. Yep. I finally did it. I shaved a man's face.
Tell me something... why is it people feel such a need to define a relationship? Why does there have to be a label of some sort slapped on it? Without giving Scott and I so much as a moment to breathe and figure it out ourselves, everyone seems to want to put us into a group. His nurses try to call me his "significant other"... ugh... I deplore that term. Others call me his girlfriend. Bleh. At 46 years old, I don't think of myself as anyone's girlfriend. And though the man is quite youthful, at 54 I think he's matured past being a boyfriend. I was also refered to as his "special friend"... that one made me laugh. Sounds like I belong on the mental rehab ward. Others have, egads, mistakenly refered to me as his wife. The point is, we haven't even figured out exactly who we are to each other... so why the push from others to speak it?
The other day the speech therapist was working with him while his son, Mike and I were in the room. She touched on people he knows. She asked, "Who's this man?" He answered, "Mike." She continued, "And he is your...?" "My son." She pointed to me and asked, "And this woman's name?" "Barb." "And she is your....?" Scott smirked and didn't say. The therapist, thinking that this was one of the times he was at a loss for a word, tried to give him consonants to get him started, "It starts with a 'g'...." I said, "Um. I don't think it's that he doesn't know the word. We just haven't defined it yet." Scott grinned. She moved on to days of the week. I was thrilled to hear him say my name a mere 24 hours after I was certain I'd never hear him say anything again.
For me, it's enough that he's here. It's enough that he lets me care about him. It's enough to see his smile every day. It's enough that the connection is there. Word-freak that I am, this is one of those times that I don't need definition. I don't require proclamations or promises. The proof is in time, in the little moments, in the long haul, in the seconds that a look of understanding gets shared. Do I love him? Sure I do - that's easily done. Does he love me? I don't know. I would hope so, and if he doesn't he'll learn to. It's enough.