Over breakfast Sunday morning, The Boy asked, “Are you label-phobic?” I was stuffing a really good omlette down my throat at the time and didn’t hear him clearly. “What?” I asked. “Do you have a phobia of labels?” he repeated.

“Is he talking about fashion?” I wondered to myself. I mean, he is a snazzier dresser than I am. Then it dawned on me. “Oh, do you mean you and me?”

He was. So I rattled off something about how, as an organized person, of course I love labels, I love putting things in their categories, and doesn’t he know this about me? He said, “I don’t know. Some people get freaked out about that kind of thing.”

“No, I’m not afraid of labels.” I assured him. “Did you want me to call you my boyfriend?”

“Only if I can call you my girlfriend,” he responded.

And so, I left for Portland Friday night to visit the guy I am dating and came back Sunday afternoon from visiting my boyfriend. Good weekend.

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