NightDaddy and DayDaddy are both legally registered as male. Despite the myriad of possible opinions on the matter, we are considered under Swedish law as a same-sex couple. Well, not yet. The powers that be don't know we're a couple.
We're not married. We don't even live together yet. In the beginning of our relationship, we were determined that we would walk our own relationship path at our own pace, conventions be damned. So far, this has been working out pretty well for us.
Our path lead us to a planned pregnancy together first and it looks like we'll be shacking up together starting in June.
Then comes the next decision: Do we register as "sambos?" This is the Swedish equivalent of a domestic partnershipish type thing. It doesn't automatically happen when I change my address to
The alternative is, of course, to get hitched. Yes, we can do that in Sweden. We can even do it in The Church of Sweden. Yay, equal rights and all that jazz! But do we want to?
Here's the thing, though. DayDaddy has already been married once before. (I was young, he was beautiful and I needed a residence permit, okay?!) That relationship crashed and burned in epic posting-Gotye-lyrics-on-Facebook proportions. This time around... I'm in no rush.
NightDaddy? He wants a big beautiful traditional wedding: When. We're. Ready.
That said, I do occasionally ask him to marry me.
I asked this morning.
I called him up from my office: "So when we're on Gotland for vacation this summer with our folks, wanna get married?"
"Just checking" I said.
"See you tonight."
"I love you."
"Love you too."