How to Manage a Marriage
I was once a typical 1950s housewife in the style of June Cleaver but those days are long gone. My journey from dresses and dishes to power suits and power plays is an interesting one that you may want to consider.
Fresh off my 42nd birthday I was considering my options as the last of our two girls left the nest to begin her adult life. I had a moldy and unfinished university education in financial administration that was pestering me to complete as well as some long smoldering ambitions. I had utilized some of my available hours during our youngest daughter's high school years to get a part time job at a local bank branch and discovered that I still had a passion for things of a financial nature. This led to a correspondence degree and an entry level job with an investment firm that needed to fill its gender equity quota. Luckily for them them, I was a spectacularly great hire and I quickly rose from assistant clerk in charge of the coffee pot to a fully licensed investment broker rapidly progressing to management in a swift five years. Turns out I was a latent prodigy.
However, on the home front nothing really changed. I still was the manager in chief in charge of cooking, cleaning and every other household duty. My husband, Peter, looked after the lawn and outside stuff as well as the traditional "manly" tasks of looking after our vehicles and basically freeloading on the rest of life's daily chores.
We were to celebrate our twenty fifth wedding anniversary in a few weeks with a party followed by a second honeymoon and I don't think either of us were looking forward to it. Peter, would have rather used his vacation time for a fishing trip with his buddies and I was too wrapped up in a project at work to take some worry free time off. Still, we seemed to be locked into that typical married life rut with no easy way out. Enter Karen.
Karen was hired as my secretary and one of the perks that came along with my promotion to management. She and I hit it off both professionally and personally. We even shared our lunch hours on those occasions when we had an hour for a leisurely lunch. Karen was quite aware of my ever increasing stress level and frequently tried to engage me in conversation about ways to bring them down from potential heart attack levels. While I appreciated her suggestions and advice, none seemed to fit my situation and frankly, I did not have much of a clue as to where my stress was coming from. I loved my job and my work environment and could not see anything that needed to change.
One day while we were sipping some wine and waiting for our waiter to bring out our lunch, Karen's phone chirped. It was her husband calling to ask when she might be home and rather he should plan for a regular dinner or just something that he could hold if she was unsure about the time. When she ended the call, I commented that it must be nice to have someone fix dinner for her. "Oh," she replied, "Jim always has a great dinner ready no matter what time I get home. It is one of his many useful talents."
I mentioned that my Peter would be hard pressed to know the recipe for a TV dinner let alone cook a meal. Karen seemed taken aback. "Are you telling me that you still cook after putting in the kind of day that you work?"
I replied that yes, I still cooked, did the laundry and kept the house clean much like I have done since the day Peter and I were married.
"No wonder you are so stressed." Karen replied. "I had you pictured as the perfect model of a modern, professional career woman and not a mommy to a man child. If you don't mind me making an observation, I think I can see where your stress is coming from and it is not your career. Do me and yourself a favor and call your husband, tell him you have to work late and that he is on his own for dinner. Just tell him that and nothing more. Don't give him a chance to ask questions; just end the conversation and block him if he tries to call you back. Then, after work, I want you to come for dinner at my house. It will give you something to think about."
I was uncomfortable about doing this but Karen was quite insistent and after a bit of back and forth with some steady persuasion from her, I agreed and made the call. Peter was not happy and started to complain but taking Karen's advice, I ended the call and immediately blocked his attempts to call me back.
I arrived at Karen's house just as her garage door was closing. Seeing me pulling in to the curb, she waited for me to join her before approaching the front door. Without a word, she opened the door and I was able to see her husband Jim just inside with two glasses of red wine one that was handed to me and one that he gave Karen along with a peck on her cheek.
"Dinner can be on the table as soon as you like," he said to Karen, "just let me know when you are ready."
Karen told him that we wanted to freshen up a bit first and maybe relax for a few minutes. She then suggested that he take our glasses into the living room and put on some soft background music. After taking care of some biological necessities, I joined her in living room finding my wine glass sitting on an end table next to a comfortable looking chair. Busy sounds and delicious smells drifted in from the kitchen as we talked.
"So," I asked Karen, "is this wine and dine behavior an everyday thing or just a demonstration for my benefit?"
"I can see how you might think it was a special performance but I can assure you that cooking and a lot of other things are part of Jim's daily routine. Laundry, housekeeping and nearly everything else around here are in his job description. You might even call him a househusband but since we don't have any kids just yet, he still works a forty hour week, just not as a demanding and irregular week as I work."