The Marriage Files

Lots of myths surround marriage. One of the prevarications females are taught to believe is that after marriage, a woman and her husband will constitute something called a “couple” who will engage in all kinds of activities together, such as attending the sort of social engagements they frequented before they were married.

One of the ways women of my generation were taught this is through television. In family sitcoms from the 1950s, like The Donna Reed Show or Father Knows Best (examples of what I grew up watching—and it’s no accident these are still in syndication after half a century), husbands and wives were portrayed as having active social lives. The wife, in her role as social secretary for the household, would nonchalantly suggest to her husband one morning that they get together with some other people. “Oh, dear, I’ve been meaning to ask you—why don’t we have the Joneses over on Thursday?” she’d say. Then, her husband would agree cheerfully that that was a wonderful idea. “That’d be great, dear!” he’d reply, or even the ultra-enthusiastic “That’d be swell, dear! Let me know if I can help out!”

And that would be it. The Joneses came to dinner on Thursday, the husband gladly brought home the quart of milk his wife forgot and delivered it with a smile, everyone had a good time, and the following week it happened all over again.

Of course, that was television, also known as pure fantasy. Here’s how the same scenario is likely to play out in real life:

She (brightly):        “Oh, dear, I’ve been meaning to ask you—why don’t we have the Joneses over on Thursday?”
He (disinterested): “Oh, not on a weeknight. We get to bed too late, and then it’s hell trying to go to work the next day.”
She (flexible):         “Well then, how about Friday?”
He (with a sigh):     “I’m too tired at the end of the week. On Friday I just want to come home and collapse.”
She (hopefully):      “Saturday?”
He (flatly):               “That’s the only night I really get to relax.”
She (dryly):             “I guess that leaves Sunday.”
He (complaining):   “Sunday! I’ve gotta go back to work Monday morning!”
She (curtly, handing him a calendar):  “Well, you find a day that works for you and let me know.”

Personally, I’d love to find out where they hide that eighth day in the week, the one that married men think exists when their wives try to schedule nights out and visits with friends and family.

You see, only single women have social lives. Married women have anti-social lives—lives with a big vacuum where interpersonal relationships used to be.

To be fair, there is a tiny, inconsequentially small number of men who will accompany their wives to weddings, funerals, parties and on vacations. Generally speaking, these are men who are gay but don’t know it yet. The average man—in other words, the kind the average woman is going to end up with—is having none of that.

Finding yourself in that no-(wo)man’s land of having a husband who is never at your side is like being married yet single at the same time, but, socially speaking, you get the worst instead of the best of both arrangements because the “absent husband syndrome” ensures that you get crossed off everyone’s invitation list. Single people don’t invite you to their shindigs because even though you’d show up alone, you’re not “available.” Married people don’t invite you to their dinners because you single-handedly (no pun intended) throw the seating arrangement into complete disarray. The only way a woman with an AHS mate can maintain any semblance of a social life is to pair off with another woman in a similar predicament so the two of you make a seatable couple (there’s that word again).

Of course, show up at enough parties with another woman as your partner and eventually the rumors will start to fly. But that’s okay. First off, I have no problem with lesbians, so why would I care if people think I am one? Second, even if I did feel some secret shame at being thought a lesbian, that would still be better than being labeled a woman so emotionally needy she has an “imaginary” husband, which is pretty much what happened to me.

Years after getting married, many of the people I know still hadn’t met my husband K—. Even the ones who’d been to my wedding weren’t sure they’d met him—he’s that reclusive! On the rare occasions when I found myself in a social context, people would ask after my husband, but the word would be in quotes (as in, “How’s your…‘husband?’”), their eyes would roll, and they’d use that tone of voice reserved for speaking to people in a delicate emotional state. “Just fine,” I’d sigh, struggling to find an acceptable excuse for his absence. But those get old after a while. How many times can people hear that a) he’s overworked; b) he’s feeling under the weather; c) he’s got to be up early for a business trip; or d) fill in the blank with any excuse you’ve ever used before they conclude that either e) he’s a homebody and I’m just covering up or f) that I’m completely batty.

I was ignorant of all this until one day when I managed to introduce K— to an old friend who had heard about him for years but had never met him. “Holy cow!” she whispered to me as soon as he was out of earshot, staring at him in disbelief. “He’s real!”

Yes, Virginia, he’s real. I know, because marriage wouldn’t be so hard if there weren’t two people involved, and that means there’s gotta be a husband around here somewhere!

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