Wife-ing is hard.

I mean, there’s no sense making bones about it: the very concept of wife-ing is already hard. But it’s especially, ESPECIALLY hard for someone like me: an extremely independent, commitment-avoidant, free-spirited neurodivergent who just lost her only real physical anchor that kept her stationary (ICYMI: my best friend Holly – see prior posts!).

And I’ve always said about my husband and WILL always say about my husband: he is the BEST man I’ve ever KNOWN (save for my dad but they’re about equal!). Not the best man I’ve ever been in a relationship with. Literally best man I’ve ever KNOWN.

And he’s not only the best man, he also happens to be the best partner. I am an uber-feminist or feminist+ (in that I don’t strive for equality, I strive for total world domination by women) and so I don’t count things like “he pitches in around the house,” “he takes me on dates,” “he’s nice to me,” etc. as part of the makeup of what makes a good partner because hello? Bare minimum. What I see and value are the much-more amorphous pieces of his personality that make him a good partner such as: (1) 100% of the time pushing ME to be happy with MYSELF (more on that later); (2) a very similar if not exactly the same set of value in terms of how we both feel we should show up in the world and what our responsibilities are to ourselves, each other, our families, our friends, our animals, strangers, and the world at large (every single one of those is a different bucket so please read and internalize carefully); (3) 100% of the time pushing HIMSELF to be better FOR HIMSELF; (4) constantly encouraging growth in me and in the two of us as a couple; (5) the head-on facing of difficult or emotionally-trying situations or conversations like a DAMN ADULT; (6) emotional awareness yes but more so actual, legitimate emotional maturity and (7) so many more.

I couldn’t have manifested a better man or partner. And the truth is – I didn’t manifest him, he just showed up and I got incredibly lucky.

But two things can be true at once, in this and any situation in life: it can be true that he’s a literal god of a man and ALSO that wife-ing is fucking hard for me. That any woman would be thrilled to be his wife and also that I’m not cut out to BE a wife.

Relax, this isn’t a divorce announcement post. Instead, consider this a statement of position in favor of unlearning the bullshit. Yes, in this case I’m talking about wife-ing but I could be talking about literally anything relational here and it would still apply.

“Traditional wife-ing” (if that is a thing) conjures up the following images for me (and this may be different for you but luckily this is my blog so what I say goes): spending a lot of time together, living in the same house, doing vacations together, considering each other in all of life’s decisions. If you want to get even more traditional (I don’t), I picture kids, monogamy, and the wife taking on the majority of all household and relationship responsibility because society sucks.

Because I picked wisely in a partner and because wife-ing is getting to me, a lot of those things actually sound really good and really bad at the same time.

My husband has a doctorate from a prestigious university in his field. He LOVES what he does. He was born to do it and it’s truly his calling (plus he’s fucking great at it). But his career requires him to physically see and touch and be near patients in the day-to-day. He can’t do it from a computer. He also loves things. He loves to be comfortable and have everything he needs around him. He likes contraptions. He likes lifting weights…which requires weights. He is also a natural-born partner in that his preference is always to be physically with me as much as he can. He doesn’t really need a lot of silence or down time. He is really good at sharing: space, things, plans.

I have a doctorate from a prestigious university. I…don’t mind what I do. I was not born to do it and it’s not truly my calling but you know why I chose it? So I could keep my mind intellectually stimulated while making a BUNCH of money and being as FREE as possible. And I’m not going to apologize for that either because men are allowed to ambitiously choose only money so why can’t I? But the point is, a lot of why I chose my career is because I CAN do it from a computer. In Costa Rica. Or Mexico. Or Budapest. I HATE things. I hate owning material possessions. I find comfort however I can and if I can’t, I BELIEVE in discomfort. I…don’t like lifting weights. I like using my body and being free of fitness items. I’m very much not a natural partner in that I like a equal mix of physical time with him and time alone. I need a LOT of silence and a LOT of down time. I’m terrible at sharing anything: space, things, and certainly plans.

So reading back those paragraphs, does the fact that I’ve become a wife mean that I should give up some of the biggest dreams I’ve ever had in terms of being location-independent, traveling full-time, and living out of a backpack? Am I supposed to just stay in one location because my husband physically can’t travel as much and just wait to die? Or only travel when we can go together?

To that I say (and my husband also says if any conservative, narrow-minded brains are reading this): FUCK no. It wasn’t true when I got married 8 years ago and it’s not true now.

And I did take a LOT of solo trips in the 8 years I was married. The difference is that I had my sweet soulmate Holly who needed me because I was her person. So I was never gone longer than 4-6 weeks at a time, if that, and I built my life around her.

But there’s never been a dishonest conversation between my husband and I from the second we met. He went in knowing how I feel about kids (no), monogamy (no), living in the states (as soon as possible, no), traveling (yes) and so much more. He always knew, as did I, that whenever my sweet Holly left this planet, there would be nothing holding me down to one location. And more importantly (see point (1) above), the man wants us BOTH to be happy. He wants me to build a life for myself where I feel fulfilled and at peace and he wants the same for himself.

And luckily, we both realize that that doesn’t need to mean the same life.

He also knew (and this is why he’s the literal best human) that I had a lot of internal chatter about being a wife from before the day I became a wife but I chose to overlook it because of my love for him. He knows I have a hard time with the historical reasoning for marriage and the historical treatment of women. And fuck, the MODERN treatment of women especially in the face of weaponized incompetence and mediocre men demanding more than they could ever be worth.

None of my ideas around wife-ing have changed. In fact, many of them have become more solid. It’s just that my physical life looked different for 8 years while I had my baby to take care of. And now, she’s gone.

I’d like to think this post isn’t an anticipatory reaction to people being like “you’re traveling SOLO? without your HUSBAND? and you’re MARRIED?!” But the fact is, I’m not a good enough or mature enough person for that to be the case. Because the truth is, people fucking blow. And have opinions about SO many things when (1) their own relationships are trash; (2) they’re fucking jealous; (3) they never spared a thought in their tiny brains about what they REALLY wanted before jumping into marriage and babies; and (4) they’re just talking to hear themselves talk.

The real truth is for me the topic is boring because the fuck do you mean I’m supposed to put all of my dreams on hold just BECAUSE I decided to become a wife? Because YOU can’t physically be away from your spouse for more than three seconds you think all marriages are the same? Because YOU’RE insecure, you are going to project and open a conversation with me about how unusual we are?

You know what – we ARE. Because mediocrity. is. bullshit.

And I truly can’t stand to have another conversation about it because the very premise of what society expects wives to be is so fucking asinine it makes me want to drive blunt pencils through my eyes.

So as previously stated: consider this an open brief in support of the idea that marriage, in its traditional form, is TRULY not built for many, many women, especially if they take a second of silence within themselves and find some self-awareness. So the options are don’t get married (which is also a FABULOUS OPTION by the way) or if you happen to find someone you think is the best man you’ve ever known, rebuild the ancient institution in a way that works for you. Because life isn’t a fucking dress rehearsal.

And a true partner should never ask you to shrink yourself — because marriage should never mean shrinking.

It should mean being the biggest, boldest, loudest, most beautiful version of yourself imaginable — and having a partner big, bold, loud, and beautiful enough to meet you there.