Margit’s Note: The Wife Issue

(Photo: Nancy Gonzalez/TueNight)

“This is my wife…”

At a cocktail party, the phrase is inserted before my name.

It says, “I go with this person.” Does it immediately imply I make casseroles and iron shirts? No, but roles have been identified and a claim has been staked. This is my territory, these are my Hawaiian Islands, there is a fence, watch out for the moat.

The word “Wife” is beyond loaded, as we’re exploring this week — and as we’ve debated for decades.

Personally, I struggle less with the word than with the activities it implies. And I don’t mean doing dishes or sewing buttons. After I got married, there was suddenly a ridiculous new assumption (not from my husband, mind you) that I would be the one to remember details and follow-up on things — birthdays, thank you notes, vacation details. People would suddenly connect with me about activities that had to do with both of us, or even just my husband. I was suddenly the Julie McCoy of our partnership. Little did they know, I will almost always accidentally direct you to Isaac’s bar instead of the Captain’s table. Does that make me a bad wife? No, just one that doesn’t have enough brain space to remember everyone’s dang birthday.

Here are this week’s Wifely tales:

And from around the web, a few wife-related tidbits:

Till death do we part,


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