Man's Best Friend (with Benefits)
How to define the canine relationship?
We met randomly through a mutual friend in Los Angeles, three and a half years ago, and we’ve been inseparable since.
I’ll be honest, we moved fast. Slept together on the first date. Moved in together the next morning.
My friends were a little concerned. They said it seemed “slightly impulsive” and suggested we take more time to get to know each other first, before rushing headlong into such a commitment. But sometimes, love doesn’t work like that. Sometimes, when you know, you know.
For me, it was love at first sight — a love that only grew stronger the more time we spent in the each other’s company, which was a lot of time. We shared meals together, shared a bed together, took multiple long walks together, every single a day. All these years later, I’m still not sick of it.
And if he is, well… he hasn’t said anything.
We moved from LA to New York, and back and forth again, as I flirted with a bi-coastal lifestyle. Not once did he raise an objection or express a concern. He seems willing to follow me, unconditionally, along every step of the way, wherever our journey takes us.
We’re more than “in love” — we’re entwined. Practically merged. I think about him when we’re apart, often rushing home from an evening activity to get back for one last stroll before bed. You should see the way he greets me at the door, like I’ve returned from war after missing in action.
It’s an indefinite love, the “love supreme” Coltrane sang so beautifully about. But it’s also a love undefined. After all these years of relational bliss, we’ve yet to DTR. That is, until tonight…
We’re finally having “the talk.”
I’m nervous…
Because, like, what are we? What, fundamentally, is this? For as much as I feel he’s my lover, I feel just as strongly that he’s my son. Can it somehow be that he’s both? It’s no wonder my relationship status on Facebook has been stuck on “It’s Complicated.”
On the one hand, we end each night curled up in each other’s arms, fully nude. We routinely open-mouth kiss. On occasion, we’ve opened things up to allow a third or fourth into our monogamous domain. And a couple of times — strictly by accident — I touched his penis.
On the other hand, I birthed him.
As written, our relationship may appear to veer into what polite society might call “problematic” — or more specifically, “incestual polysexual bestiality.” But it certainly doesn’t feel illegal!
I sometimes joke with folks who remark on our public displays of affection and say, “We’re saving it for marriage.” But the truth is, when it comes to the physical stuff, I’m just not interested in going any further than first base.
And if he is, well… he hasn’t said anything.
UPDATE: We had the talk. And ultimately, we agreed that our love defies categorization. Am I his parent? Yes. Is he my partner? Yes. Does that make us parentners? Partnents? No, those aren’t words.
Even so, words don’t do us justice. Labels need not apply. We’re content to simply remain “a man and his dog”… “a dog and his man”… “a father and son who sleep naked together and sometimes, unintentionally, graze genitals”…
Goodnight :)