I hate ‘partner’. So what do I call the man I live with?

So what should I call the man I live with?

NOW that civil partnerships are to be made available to all (and not just same-sex couples), my great hope is that something can be done to help me find the right word to describe my relationship with the man I live with.

When we first got together 13 years ago, I referred to David as my boyfriend. I have continued to do so, but since he has just turned 70, even I can see that it sounds faintly delusional.

I hate the word partner, which sounds as if we are sitting down to a round of bridge or, even worse, a turn on Strictly, and lover is a bit slushy. Other half is bereft of any romance, my old man (or woman) was only an option when I was a 22- year- old hanging out in the Californian hippy haven of Laurel Canyon in the 1970s, and live-in gentleman (as suggested to me by an American friend) suggests we found each other via Lonely Hearts.

The ability for heterosexual couples to enter civil partnerships, allowing us t he same tax and next-of-kin status as married couples, is an important initiative in an age when there are 3.3 million unmarried but co-habiting households in the UK.

Even so I don’t think we will be taking up the offer. Although we l i ve t ogether, we both already have children by other people, have our own properties and keep entirely separate finances. It may seem unromantic but in our case there doesn’t seem much point in entering any kind of legal or religious agreement, which will only make us feel trapped when we are having one of those ‘ So, shall we end it now?’ arguments.

The knowledge that either party can walk away from our joint existence if we wish has definitely served as an adhesive rather than demonstrating a lack of commitment. But please don’t call us partners.

Meghan learns fast

THE Duchess of Sussex is mastering the art of Royal diplomacy at an amazingly fast clip. On her and Prince Harry’s first visit to Brighton last week, she was presented with what was described as an ‘intersectional feminist’ picture of her beagle Guy, captioned: ‘A boy who makes every effort to dismantle the patriarchy.’ ‘ How lovely,’ she responded. ‘Look at the little freckles on his face.’

Welcome arrival

For the first time in decades, a new drug to help with debilitating morning sickness – Xonvea – will be available on the NHS. The legacy of thalidomide, the last mainstream drug for the nausea suffered by millions of women in pregnancy, was not only the deformed limbs of 10,000 babies but an unwillingness to licence and provide any other medication for fear of any similarly apocalyptic side effects. When I was editor of Vogue, I worked with an 80 per cent female staff and saw countless of their babies grow into young men and women. I also witnessed how difficult it was for these prospective mothers to deal with the horror of t he i nappropriately titled morning sickness. They were often o v e r c o me throughout the day with nausea and vomiting.

Cruelly, it was in the first early weeks, the time when pregnancies are at their most vulnerable, that they often had the worst symptoms but it was also when they wanted to keep their condition private.

Few women wish to tempt fate for the first ten weeks by announcing their news to their boss and a whole office. Some were uncertain how they felt about their pregnancy, others had suffered previous miscarriages, and others were worried about how they would manage a baby and a working life.

Relentless nausea while carrying on the appearance of business as usual (especially from the cramped bench seating of a month of fashion shows) is no easy task.

Let’s hope Xonvea will be a lifechanging aid for all prospective mothers, helping these extraordinary nine months of pregnancy be the positive experience it should be, rather than the endurance test it becomes for many.

It’s no supermodel

BMW has just announced that its new model will talk to us. That’s the last thing I want. Instead of wasting time and money on computer- generated conversation, why don’t modern car manufacturers design something with the charm and sleek curves of vintage Mercedes, Saabs or Citroens. Supermodels all of them. I defy anybody to feel the same way about their Toyota Prius or family Suburu.

Gaga’s star turn

THE remake of A Star Is Born – starring Bradley Cooper and Lady Gaga – is total heaven. A triple-A love story that manages to be schmaltzy, indulgent and irresistible – just a fraction too long. Cooper’s swimming pool eyes alone would make it worth the ticket price but the standout is Lady Gaga’s performance as the divebar-singer-turned-diva. For a rock star whose USP has been elaborate disguise, it’s a fascinating surprise that she looks so utterly compelling stripped of her crazy carapace. From their first to their last meeting, it’s completely believable that this couple have fallen madly in love since at the same time they are being swept off their feet, exactly the same thing is happening to us. Victory for manners

For his new biography of Winston Churchill, Andrew Roberts had access to the papers of the great man’s daughter Mary Soames. I wonder whether he discovered how she controlled her five noisy children, bellowing, bickering and name-calling around the dinner table? ‘Is it kind? Is it true? Is it necessary?’ she would admonish, adding if not, then they should shut up. I tried it once in my own home. Total silence.

Putting on the style

THE sight of Lucia Hunt, above left, Susan Hammond, above right, and Laura Javid arriving at the Tory conference with their loose, tousled hair, flowing green midi- dresses and high- heeled pumps, confirmed a new style for spousal high command.

When Samantha Cameron (a woman seemingly born glossy) arrived in Downing Street, bringing with her a wardrobe of skinny trousers, sleeveless shifts and figurehugging block colour, she epitomised the same 21st Century power-dressing as Michelle Obama.

The Blackpool wives have shifted the dial a notch to something more Everywoman than Alpha woman, but with a contemporary softness that is every bit as aspirational.