Couple to couple

I was marveling to my wusband that I’d never been part of a couple that was friends with another couple. It hadn’t occurred to me until we started hanging out with just that – our closest friends in California. Generally we’re a pretty well balanced group: two Studs, two Macho Femmes. The studs are both from Louisiana, about the same age, brothers from another mother. Then there’s me and the other Macho Femme. We like the same stuff, we think alike, we never run out of things to talk about.

We’ve taken short trips together, spent holidays together, movies, dinners and long weekends. You know – they’re our couple friends.

This is why you sometimes don’t see lesbians for months at a time. It’s not that they don’t continue to have a social life – their circles just got smaller.

I have been in three long-term relationships in my life, spanning 20 years. Each one – and this sounds pitiful – was with someone who didn’t necessarily want people to know we were a couple. I know that sounds horrible – I’m not saying it to sound that way; I chose to be those relationships. We didn’t do those “couple” things. I have friends that I have known for decades who’ve never met any of my exes.

There is an interesting dynamic when you have couple friends. It’s kind of like you’re on teams, divided one of two ways: couple against couple, or in our case, butch against femme. The dividing lines aren’t necessarily obvious, it happens organically.

It’s a really comforting place to be. I understand why couples get that smug look on their faces –that “we’re a couple, we know a peace that you can’t know” look. When I first got engaged, I visited my oldest friend on the planet. She has seen me through boyfriends and girlfriends, heartbreak and triumph. When she picked me up from the airport, she said I already looked married. Another friend of mine told me even my butt looked different after my wusband and I started dating seriously. What? Even my butt?

I don’t know about that. I do know I’ve always been one to have a wingman. Three of them if you count my mother and my sister, to giggle and have inside jokes with. Until now this person hasn’t been the person I was in a relationship with. But now, for the first time, the person I want to talk to about all of the things going on in life is my partner, my wusband, before anyone else, without fear of judgment.

When I’m challenged by something or someone, I talk to her. When people are doing something that is irritating the crap out of me, she’ll tell me it’s OK or it bothered her too. She smoothes my ruffled feathers. She’s on my side.