December 1991

The Elusive Etiquette of Being a Gay Spouse

Herb Moses

I am the only member of the congressional
gay spouse caucus. While this makes
meetings a breeze, it presents its own set
of definitional and etiquette problems for
which I have not yet found a solution.

Straight and gay friends know us as Bar-
ney and Herb, but introductions to strang-
ers require a fast read on the audience. The
accepted gay term is “lover,” but to me
that sounds like we are always hopping in
and out of bed. For two years of our four-
year relationship I was in business school
in New Hampshire and Barney was either
in Washington or Boston. Now I work a
lot, he works a lot, and we both travel, so
that is certainly not an accurate de-
scription. I also think the term conveys a
lack of permanence and seriousness.
Equally, “boyfriend” sounds too jaunty
and too transient.

There is “significant other.” This sounds
like a census term, and, in dissection, there
are several other significant people in my
life. Washington’s gay newspaper has
used “partner-in-life,” which sounds like
Jim Bakker sold me a lifetime share with
Barney for $1000. There is “companion,”
which sounds like one of us is either eld-
erly or a dog.

Most of the time, I say “friend.” But I try
to say it with a capital F. Until we decide
on a term and define it for the world, no
phrase will feel comfortable. Gay men and
lesbians need a term that would do for us
what “Ms” did for women.

Having started a new job several months
ago, I have had to wrestle with the proper
response to the question: “Are you mar-
ried?”

Possibilities: “No, I am gay.” “Yes, I am
gay.” “No, I am not married, but I am in a
relationship.”

A I have solv.ed the problem this way: If gay

people ask me if I am married, I say
“Yes,” because it means settled down, not
dating, if straight people ask me, I say,
“More or less.” (We do not have a license,
but we do have a mortgage.)

“My friend and 1, Barney and I, we...”
Since it is difficult to swallow pronouns
and I will not lie, I really have to tell peo-
ple that I am gay. (No one has been sur-
prised.) I would like it, though, if people
would gossip just a little more. I do not
like to have to “come out” so often on the
job. I have not shared a special secret with
all my co-workers. I wish they would all
talk to each other so I did not have to ex-

plain to each person about my re-
lationship. People respect my privacy,
which I do appreciate, but I feel like I am
having to reveal so much in a little work
conversation. It feels so different from
“Yes, my wife, Belinda, is a lawyer and
we have been married for four years.”

Barney and I see each otlrer’s families
fairly often. I have tried, for ease of con-
versation, to refer to Bamey’s brother
and sisters as brother-in-law and sister-
in—law, but I always end up explaining
more than saying less. I will say I visited
my sister-in-law wherein follows a dis-
cussion “I didn’t know you had a broth-
er,” and a conversational shortcut has be-
come a rather lengthy detour. It is,
however, quite natural for my 3-year-old
niece to call Barney “uncle,” and fun for
Bamey’s three adult nieces to refer to me
as “Uncle Herb.”

Until recently, I was usually referenced
but not named in the press. I have occa-
sionally said to photographers taking our
picture, “Please don’t refer to me as ‘and
friend.’ I have a name and will tell you if
you ask.” However, I ascribe little malice
to the anonymity I am usually accorded. I
think this is often done out of respect for
my privacy, with editors somehow as-
suming that a respectable person would
not want his name associated with some-

. thing less than respectable, like a gay re-

lationship. Most papers respect the old
rules of the closet and are probably fol-
lowing the wishes of a majority of well-
known-but-I-don’t-want-to-be-that-welb
known gay people. The occasional col-
umn mention was designed to repel peo-
ple by making something in the re-
lationship sound bad, like “live-in
heartthro ” or “studly boyfriend” (about
which it’s tough to complain.)

We are making progress. This year I ac-
quired a name. While Barney was re-
covering from his heart attack, he was in-
terviewed in our Washington home and
what appeared in The Boston Herald was
a very nice account. “The congressman,
who appeared relaxed and rested, sat on a
white cloth couch in the renovated split-
level Washington townhouse he shares
with his companion Herb Moses...” It
was nonnal, and I really appreciated that.
Similarly, a Boston magazine article on
the politically correct had on its guest list
for the politically correct dinner party,
“Barney Frank and Herb Moses.”

There is an entire category of situations
where I find that I am telling people I do
not know a lot more of my personal busi-

7

ness than perhaps they want to know. This
is a subset of “I don’t care what they do in
private, as long as they don’t flaunt it.”
Barney and I at times meet up at hotels in
other cities. I have to explain who I am
first. (A note to travel agents: Both names
on the reservation, please.) I admit to be-
ing pleased, though, when an Atlanta ho-
tel clerk at the 1988 Democratic conven-
tion thought that “lover” was my disguise
and that really I was Bamey’s Secret Ser-
vice agent.

The longer we are together, the less in-
clined I am to fudge a response to guard
the feelings of the inquirer. Shopping for
clothes, I was steered to a different size by
a clerk. I informed him it was not for me,
it was for my boyfriend. OK, I could have
lied and said it was a gift for my brother,
right? And the longer we are together, the
less inclined I am to mute my behavior for
the benefit of others. We recently attended
a charity ball in Washington. After dinner,
everyone danced. Barney looked at me
and asked, “Should we?”

“Yeah,” I said. “It’s a ball. You’re sup-
posed to dance.”

I am most reserved at work functions. On
Capitol Hill, Barney always introduces
me as his lover. I have been on the job
about a year. When people I work with
who do not know me well see us together,
they might assume Barney and I are
friends, or that I once worked for him. I
am still not quite ready —— and perhaps a
little too junior to feel secure enough —
to introduce Barney to every co-worker
and superior as my lover.

It is interesting that the kinds of questions
I raise are those that seem the most un-
liberated. I seek not to mark my in-
dependence, which I have, but to find gra-
cious ways of defining our
interdependence. I occasionally campaign
with Barney, despite a suggestion that this
is something with which people “might
not be comfortable.” In doing so, I try to
define a role for myself that will someday
serve as a model for other gay spouses.

I hope that eventually I will achieve the
recognition that other spouses of US rep-
resentatives have. Instead of my mere ex-
istence being a topic of discussion, per-
haps someday we can move on to the
important things, like my hair and my
clothes.

Reprinted with permission of Herb MosesV