yet another in an endless string of acronyms

If you're going to communicate with me on any kind of regular basis, you're going to have to learn an astonishing number of acronyms. There are Elizabeth originals, like CPT, for example, which stands for Cutie Patootie. And of course there are the more standard phrases like TMI, OMG, etc. But there is one that's been the topic of much conversation over G-chat and while half-drunk sitting in bathroom stalls recently.

DTR.

DTR stands for "defining the relationship," and commonly refers to the conversation or moment or unspoken thing that happens that transitions someone from being "this guy I'm seeing" to "my boyfriend."

You want to talk about a personalized invitation to Awkward Town? DTR-ing. No RSVP required, because it is like a party bus for two, complete with awkward-tinis.

So yes. I had been contemplating the DTR with Mr. Risky Business. I may have referred to him a few times in casual conversation to random people as my boyfriend. My boyfriend this. My boyfriend that. But only here and there, for risk of seeming like I was becoming THAT person. You know that person, the one who forgets that the guy they're dating actually does have a name, referring to him only as "my boyfriend" like a six-year-old girl who just got a puppy and yes, the puppy has a name, but she's so excited about finally having the puppy all she can say is, "this is my puppy, have you met my puppy, do you like my puppy, PUPPY PUPPY PUPPY?"

I will not be that girl.

Anyway. I'd been trying the word on for size. Letting it roll of my tongue and seeing how it felt. And I'd been trying to decide when the DTR-ing would take place. Truthfully, it wasn't a huge scary DTR. It wasn't like, hey I need you to stop sleeping with other people, because we're exclusive now. He wasn't dating anyone else and neither was I, and I wasn't concerned that was about to change. It felt very unspoken, the DTR-ing. But still. It needed to be said out loud.

So Mr. RB and I had plans to go out Friday night, and he calls me Thursday and shares a very exciting turn of events with me, a turn of events that means our Friday night plans will most assuredly include the meeting of people. And meeting people means introductions. And introductions mean titles. And defining titles. And when he shared this with me Thursday he wasn't entirely certain how many introductions that would really include, but it could've been anywhere from a small handful to a full gospel choir's worth of his friends and acquaintances in a single night. And this very fact, that there would be several occasions during the course of the evening that would require him to introduce me to people, forced the DTR-ing. No time for the epidural, doctor, because the water broke, we're fully dilated and we are having this baby RIGHT HERE so you better watch out.

Mostly the DTR conversation was about the fact that because of Mr. Risky Business's, um, situation (you know, the one that originally earned him this nickname), these introductions become much more than just introductions. Some of the people we might be seeing might not even know that anything had happened, and then there I'd be, looking like a heartbreak-hungry homewrecker or at the very least a dirty, dirty tramp.

I told him it's all about how he pitches it, and that at the very least, we ARE in the South and because of that, people would not be capable of saying anything tacky in front of me. We don't do that. They'd wait. And above all else, nothing he could say -- short of, "this is my friend Elizabeth," which we quickly and unanimously vetoed -- would ruffle my feathers in the least. Do I want to tell everyone, this is my boyfriend, Mr. Risky Business? Of course. I would like to enact a phone tree, if that's not too much trouble. Perhaps a billboard campaign? But the situation is a unique one. And the truth is that no amount of awkward introductions will change the way he feels about me. And I know very well how he feels. This is what I told him.

And then, it happened. He said the G word. Agreeing with me, he said, if things were different, it would be, "this is my girlfriend Elizabeth. My HOT girlfriend."

And pretty much at that point I didn't care that things weren't ideal. Because there was a seriously cute boy on my sofa calling me his hot girlfriend.

And SHIT, y'all. He still. Smells. AMAZING.


cheers,
elizabeth