Inter.

My boyfriend isn't Jewish.
This bothers my grandparents. This bothers my parents. And as much as I try to deny it, this bothers me.
I know that my own "discomfort" is a result of my family's disapproval. I'm a young liberal free-thinking woman. I know that inter-relationships can and do work. I know that marriage isn't the end all and be all of a happy romance. I know that plenty of happy and monogamous couples aren't even allowed to be married.
I know that I am twenty years old and shouldn't even consider settling down. I'm in college. I'm having fun, sex, romance, my first experience with love, true and requited love, and my realization that I might have, for version Lindsay 20.0, a match.
So why am I unsettled?
Earlier today R. Richard and I were jesting about the nonexistent other man in my life.
"I'll run off with him," I said.
"Well what does he have that I don't?" R. Richard asked.
I paused for a moment, searching for a witty answer.
"A Bar Mitzvah."
R. Richard was, understandably, upset. I, in turn, was upset that I had angered and wounded him.
I brooded over this all day, shed a few tears, felt various incarnations of guilt.
Last week at my cousin's Bat Mitzvah I met various responses to this goi-boy. My more distant relatives were amused, a little supportive. My poor grandmother tried to talk me out of it, broke my heart--she was so disappointed, so disapproving.
This is an issue, yes. How big an issue? I don't know. I just know that I refuse to lose R. Richard over a question as seemingly mundane but as terribly serious as religious faith.
The question, it seems, is familial disapproval. Can I weather that? Well, let's hope so.
Until then I'll continue my inter-relationship and state of delirious bliss, family be damned.
So silly, people should just be happy for each other...
...besides, my uncles have an inter-relationship, so why can't I. Tsk.