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The Hitched Chick's Guide to Modern Marriage
Essential Advice for Staying Single-Minded and Happily Married
By Mandi Norwood St. Martin's Press
Copyright © 2003 Mandi Norwood
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4299-7894-1
CHAPTER 1
Me, Myself and I
Although the word "selfish" connotes negative behavior, I don't think it is. It's a good thing to be selfish, although I prefer to use the phrase "watching out for yourself and taking care of yourself." When you take care of yourself, you're better in your marriage, you're more fulfilled....
— Sabina, forty
Perish the thought that a woman could think about herself, be selfish, put I before He, especially within marriage. Giving, devoting, sacrificing ... these are the actions of a good wife, no? No. These are the actions of a drudge, a sucker, a sap. These are the actions of a woman who sits meekly at a dinner party and feels worthy only of discussing the accomplishments of her husband, while quietly despairing over society's disinterest in her. These are the actions of an intelligent, once-vibrant woman who held so much promise, yet will come to be known as Whassername when her former classmates see her at their reunion. These, too, are the actions of a woman who will find herself struggling with her own self-worth and identity issues, fearful for her future, when she discovers the husband, to whom she has sacrificed herself, is having an affair with his dynamic, self-possessed coworker. (How devastating to discover an e-mail from him to his vivacious lover, stating "My wife is such a bore.")
Women have historically been the caretakers of their marriages and husbands, running themselves ragged to appease the moods of a petulant spouse, looking out for his needs, squishing their own identities and putting on hold their own aspirations and dreams to allow their partners to pursue theirs. Our mothers were brought up to believe a "good wife" is an ATM of selfless deeds, no deposits required. As a result, when the marriage breaks down, it won't just be her financial well-being that's seriously depleted. What remains of her self-worth will likely be destroyed, too.
It all began even before she floated down the aisle on a wave of dreams. Should she have received a good education and scored academically, her family's expectations for her will doubtless have stretched little further than a husband who would provide for her and their brood of children. She'd take a job to supplement her husband's income until the first baby bounced along, maybe. But it was generally understood that her career would be short-lived, since a woman's defining role was that of nurturer, caregiver, selfless saint whose fulfillment and joy would be derived from the accomplishments and well-being of others. Perhaps she'd be able to resume work — as if looking after a family wasn't work — once her chicks finally flew the nest? A nice little job to get her out of the house, provide a bit of what my grandmother used to call "pin money" ... you know, pennies she could spend on little treats for herself. Ooooh, like, pretty brooches and stockings? Yes, and, if she saves her pennies up, vats of alcohol with which to drown her pain and fill the sheer rotten emptiness of her soul.
Of course, some of our mothers, Baby Boomer women, did continue to work, even while their children were young. Whether their reasons were rebelliousness, dogged determination to give their education meaning, financial necessity or — gasp — pure pleasure, there was always, always, the implicit understanding that husband and family came first since her identity was primarily that of wife and mother. After all, did she not relinquish her own identity when she took her husband's name and vowed to forsake all others, which we know then included herself? Especially herself. This was not to be questioned. Hell's bells, it was to be celebrated!
For the vast majority of our mothers, her wedding day was her family's proudest moment. Forget that she was trilingual/athletic/ artistic/literary/psychic/academic. It was small potatoes that she was on the way to discovering another life form/cure for cancer/alternative energy source. That she was getting married, had secured a husband, that was the accomplishment for which no expense would be spared. Huzzaaah! And aside from vowing to capitulate to her husband forever, her greatest gift to the world at that point was to throw her bouquet to the nearest single female in the hope that another woman would have the great fortune to lose herself to a husband. And soon.
See, even the identity of Mother paled into insignificance against that of Wife. In fact, having a child without also having a husband wasn't just stupid, it was shameful, stigmatized and the only reason to be ostracized by family, friends and society. No, a woman's only true, meaningful identity was that of Wife, even if it meant a life of slavery, submission and suppression. Perhaps because it meant slavery, submission and suppression?
But that's enough soapbox ranting. There are plenty of authors who have furiously filled books with historical home truths, rhetoric and self-pity. And although well-meaning and justified, they can be exhausting and dreary to read and, as such, uninspiring. Yes, yes, we know women have had it rough. Yes, yes, we know many women continue to suffer. But what's the whole story now? What lessons have we learned and how do we regard our role today? How are we preserving our identities in the midst of an institution we uphold, but which continues to challenge our sense of self?
Finding Myself
My generation is marrying much later. And one of the benefits of getting married later is that we've had time to try things on our own, make our own friends, have our own successes and failures," states thirty-year-old Lena, who's been married to Andrew for two years. "Once you feel grounded in who you are — once you like yourself — and understand your own goals, values and dreams, only then are you prepared to share them with someone else. The only way a woman can keep her identity when she's married is if she has forged an identity before she got married. A lot of people think that finding a life partner is about finding someone to complete them. You have to be complete on your own and look for someone who complements you instead."
The average Western woman today marries (for the first time) at the age of twenty-eight (source: One Plus One). She will generally be five years older than her mother and three years older than her father was when they (first) skipped down the aisle. But there's been very little shuffling miserably on the infamous singles' shelf for today's women. If the shelf is groaning under the weight of unmarried women, it is because the shelf is considered a good place to be today. Contrary to Sylvia Ann Hewlett's panic-mongering book, Creating a Life: Professional Women and the Quest for Children, every woman I interviewed believed the so-called shelf to be a viewing station for all the options before her, somewhere she can take stock and experiment with life choices. (And as Emily, thirty-three, says, "Having so much choice can make it hard to choose!") From here, she can dip her toe in the workplace waters before either plunging in headfirst or drying off until she decides to try something new. From here, she has the time to ponder who she is, what she wants and whether these would be complemented or compromised by marriage. And deciding they could be complemented, the shelf is also an exciting as well as comfortable (if not downright luxurious) place from where she can view candidates and make her final selection.
Who's writing those volumes about fraught single women, panic-stricken at the age of twenty-five that they'll never get married? Pontificating over the elusiveness of a smart, generous, progressive male maybe. But that's simply part of the joy and pain of today's selection process, and no more sinister than the discussions we have over the shortage of well-cut, perfectly tailored black pants. It may make us miffed, but it doesn't make us desperate or pathetic. In fact, it simply prolongs the time we have to relish in the search for a partner. And ourselves. For many, that time isn't long enough. The growing and forming of identity during those single years is taken so seriously today that when the ideal man makes himself known, it's perceived as too soon even at the age of thirty.
Thirty-two-year-old Pia, who's been married one year to Michael, says, "I loved being single and had a lot of reservations about giving it up, which is why our engagement was long. My reservations weren't about Michael, but at thirty, I felt very young and I was still in the realm of growth and possibility. I think of life as split into stages of being and becoming. I always enjoy the becoming stages rather than the being stages because I'm just not interested in status quo. I'm interested in passion and excitement and I felt nervous about giving that up and having something solid. I enjoy longing and desire and the feeling that anything is around the corner, so I never had the urge to settle down, have a husband and kids and a diamond ring. It wasn't in my field of desire."
Terri, thirty-five, says she felt the same when she met her husband five years ago. "My father's African-American and a southern patriarch in that he is one of these iron-fisted men who likes to dominate. It had a profound effect on me. I spent many years working through the effects of my childhood and I felt I didn't need the validation of marriage. So when I met Chad and he said, 'Hey, let's get married!' I said, 'Hey, let's not!' I was so nervous that I'd lose what I'd fought for."
And Rachel, twenty-eight, remembers meeting her husband at the age of twenty-four. "I was so young. I wasn't planning to get married. I'd only known Patrick for four months and he was telling me how much in love with me he was and I'd say, 'No, no, no ...' I was going away for the summer to work in a boys' camp so there'd be lots of wonderful men there, too. Right before I left, I said to my mother, 'Mom, I'm falling in love with Patrick and it's so inconvenient.' I just didn't want to be settled. I wanted to be young and free and great."
Few women today immediately step out of their graduation cloaks and into their bridal carriage. But we're not whiling away the years between school and marriage just thinking about what we want from life. We're working, playing, evaluating, experimenting, reconsidering and fine-tuning. From our moral values to the direction we wish our lives to take, from the challenges we face alone to our everevolving modes of conduct, we rely on our single-years experiences to form and celebrate our identity. Once established (though never fully complete, we know, until the day we die), it's only then that we wholeheartedly embrace marriage.
I couldn't even entertain the idea of getting married until I had edited my own magazine. My life plan was pretty much this: junior writer, features editor, global travel, buy own home, become an editor-in-chief, get married and have kids. Incidentally, I was prepared to take or leave the final two and, if they happened, I didn't much care about the order of arrival. No question, I'm thrilled to pieces that I did get married and have children, but the point is, they were last on my list of priorities. Top of my list: me.
It's for that very reason that thirty-three-year-old Jo retracted her decision to marry Aaron when he first proposed just three months into their relationship. "He was the kind of guy who, when we'd be walking through Washington Square Park, would literally sweep me off my feet, swing me around and kiss me. I became swept up in this incredible romance, so when we were on line for sushi in the East Village and he turned around and spontaneously said, 'Will you marry me?' I said yes! Then we went and got drunk on saki. But the whole mood shifted when I woke up the next morning. I realized I just couldn't do it. I was in a job I hated and I wanted to leave that job to pursue my own thing. I felt like I needed to do that before I got married. I wanted to get married when I was wildly confident in my own life. Yes, I was wildly confident about this man in my life, but I wanted to be as confident with my own direction. So I told him, 'Listen, I think I've made a big mistake. I do love you and I want to be with you for the rest of my life, but I don't want to get married yet.' He didn't talk to me for three days."
Says thirty-two-year-old Gabrielle, married for two years to Murray, "I came into my marriage having traveled, I'd earned my own money, I'd been through crises and got myself through them. I'd been left and betrayed and I'd betrayed others. I'd had the experience of knowing that I wouldn't die if someone stopped loving me and those things enabled me to go into my marriage feeling whole and good and complete and that I didn't need Murray to complete me."
Stacey, thirty, is one of an increasing number of women who enter their first marriage as a mother already. Fear of losing her identity was the main reason she didn't marry the father of her child. Fiercely independent, Stacey never felt the need to have a husband, either to make her complete or to secure the well-being of herself and her child. "Although we had a baby, I just didn't see myself going down that path with him. He wanted me to be someone I'm not. And he was controlling. If I wanted to go out, he'd say, 'Why should I baby-sit?' Whereas if he went out, I'd have to stay at home and look after our son. So it would be termed 'baby-sitting' for him, but for me, it would be doing my motherly duty. My worst scenario would be to wake up at forty years old and realize that the last twenty years of my life had not been what I wanted, married to somebody just because I had a child with him. I'm selfish like that."
Having forged a career, single-handedly bought and furnished a home and established her sense of self (as well as that of her son, Harry, for ten years, with whom she also took a trip around the world), Stacey is more protective of her identity than ever. "I am my own person and I certainly didn't need to compromise who I was for the sake of companionship. I could get what I needed from Harry." Now married to Ben for two years, Stacey says, "I don't see myself just as Ben's wife. I'm very much me and it was important that Ben understood that. I love Ben and feel lucky to have him, but he's also very lucky to have me."
So Long, Sainthood!
Hel-o-oh? Are these women speaking? It's a stereotypically male attitude toward marriage that has emerged, though why men could ever have held these attitudes is anyone's guess. For Pete's sake, proof that marriage is good for men doesn't get more positive than this: married men live longer than single men, even if their marriage is well below par. What's more, according to Steven L. Nock, a University of Virginia sociology professor who has interviewed six thousand men every year since 1979, "The research shows that marriage per se increases men's achievements as reflected in earnings, labor force and occupational prestige."
If anyone needs to worry, it's women. Statistics show that single women are generally healthier and stronger than their married counterparts (source: American Heart Association). Could this possibly be due to the fact that when a man marries, there are two people looking after him (three if you count his mother, but more of her later ...), caretaking his nutritional/emotional/physical/social/dental/ psychological well-being? Whereas there's only half a person caretaking hers? If that. Most women recall their mothers deteriorating into empty shells, shadows of themselves, unrecognizable when compared to the smiling, hopeful, supremely confident young women they were in their college, even wedding, photos.
Observing the behavior of our fathers, our mothers' responses to it and the impact that had on both of them and their relationship has struck terror into today's women. Although our mothers married at a time when you could hardly hear the church bells over the sound of burning bras and feminist rhetoric, few of them truly practiced what they felt, at last, free to preach. For the overwhelming majority of women, even if their mothers continued to work outside the home, even if they maintained separate interests from their husbands, the ideal Disney marriage was the reserve of celluloid. For many women growing up, marriage had all the components of a horror film, where the weak, despite their feeble protestations at the start, are swallowed up by the strong, spit out and left for dead. Happy endings? Pah!
I'll come to the subject of money and power later in the book. And for sure, a severe lack of both were key factors in keeping our mothers married to our fathers long after the "best before" date had expired. But what most women claim to lie at the root of their mothers' marital problems was lack of identity. (Or, more specifically, the problem of imposed identity.) Suppression of her own feelings, desires and needs if, indeed, she was able to define them at all. She didn't have a whole heap of convictions, never mind the courage to see them through. How could she when she hadn't taken the time to discover what they truly were, what she was, before she got married? In vowing to be totally committed to her husband, she was pledging to become devoid of commitment to herself. Says Emily, "In our mothers' generation, there was a clear definition of what a woman was supposed to be." She was, she felt, put on the planet with the sole purpose of serving her husband and to hell with what she wanted. As it happened, hell was what she ended up with.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from The Hitched Chick's Guide to Modern Marriage by Mandi Norwood. Copyright © 2003 Mandi Norwood. Excerpted by permission of St. Martin's Press.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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