Why I call him that

Denis (The Man Who Lives In My House), feels marginalized by his title.  So I will explain:

My grandmother Jane loved to sing show tunes (she knew all the words), pick stocks (she was good at it), and play bridge.  She drank old-fashioneds and smoked elegantly.  She never left the house without big clip-on earrings, coiffed hair, and spectator pumps. She had a fabulous whisky  and cigarettes voice.   In later years she suffered a number of strokes which caused aphasia--she could talk clearly, but often couldn't find the exact word or name she needed.  She worked around that--she was trying to say something about Charles, her husband of 50+ years.

"You know," she said to my mother from her hospital bed, "The MAN.  The Man Who Lives in MY HOUSE."

My mother and I both use this phrase to refer to our spouses.  Somehow, it sums things up.