And you are...?
My husband works in an industry that's pretty old-school: definitely male-dominated, mostly older men in leadership roles. Lots of family businesses, so really the only women and young people are those whose dads owned a company and passed it along.
Occasionally -- and now that the Smelmooo is getting to be in more of a leadership role himself, more frequently -- I need to go to his work dinners and parties and play the good wife. A schmoozer and a socializer I am not, but for the most part I don't mind this role. I'm proud of the Smelmooo, and want to support him, and most of the people are lovely and I have a fine time smiling and chatting and trying to be charming. I've always done better around grown-ups than around my peers, so I actually am, in a weird way, in my element at these things, even if I don't have a ton in common with the other participants, and even if I always struggle to match names with faces with stories, and always resort to saying "So nice to see you," just to cover my ass in case I've actually met this person on three separate occasions during the last 4 years, but have zero recollection of doing so.
And it's fodder for bonding with my mom, who has been playing the good wife at my dad's work events for almost 45 years now, although now that he's retired she takes the occasional out, leaving him on his own so she can curl up for a night alone with a good book or bad tv, eating soup or a tuna sandwich, happy as a clam. But my mom's more than paid her dues, and she's been an excellent role model, being gracious and graceful even if inside she's rolling her eyes and thinking this person she's talking to could not be more pretentious or dopey or full of himself. Thanks, Mom!
Anyway, since our marriage nearly 7 months ago (which, by the way, has flown), the Smelmooo and I had a handful of events to attend, including a meeting in Hawaii, but this weekend was the big annual convention (my third) where pretty much all of the Smelmooo's work folk gather, and it's one of the only big events for which I'm actually registered and listed in the conference program(lots of times the "spouses' programs" are incredibly painful and sexist, like scarf-tying seminars and make-up tips and junk, and in the past I've mostly been spared, although, again, as husband assumes more of a leadership role, the schmoozing with the wives thing becomes more and more necessary...). And I have a little nametag that identifies me as, you know, Ms. Tangent, as opposed to Mrs. Smelmooo.
Which, you know, raises some eyebrows in this crowd.
"I saw you in the program, and I just figured that you'd already gotten divorced and that Smelmooo just has a thing for women named Tangent."
"Wait, you're married? But...wait...you're Smelmooo, and she's Tangent. I don't get it."
I feel compelled to (over)share here that, on my first trip to the gynecologist after getting married, the discussion went like this:
"So, what's your married name?"
"Still a Tangent, actually."
"Really? Ewwwwwwwwwwww....you married your brother?"
It never really hit me, until after our wedding, how much people care about what the heck my name is. Myself included, actually.
I always thought I'd be fairly laid-back about what people called me after we got married. I didn't keep my name to make a big political statement, or because I am an overly radical feminist, or because I hate the name, or because I hate my in-laws, or because this is a starter marriage (I always found it simultaneously hilarious and horrifying when, in the weeks surrouding our wedding, people would ask about my name, and several said, "Oh, smart! It was a huge pain in the ass to change back after my divorce..."). I kept my name because it's who I am; because I didn't want to give up the identity I'd had for more than 27 years; because my name means something to me and to my graduate school professors and to my other professional contacts.
But somehow, I've started getting annoyed when people assume that I'm a Smelmooo just because it's my husband's name, and downright indignant when they judge me for it. No, no! No judgment! I just wonder how you'll deal with that with the kids...
Because of course you're having kids! Only selfish, heartless, child-hating monsters wouldn't want to have kids!
Luckily, my mom (also a Tangent, just like my dad and me) has trained me well, and I smile my lovely smile, squeeze Smelmoo's hand, sip my drink, try not to spill my food, and roll my eyes and make faces only in my mind. See? I can be a proper wife, even if I don't have the name for it.
Occasionally -- and now that the Smelmooo is getting to be in more of a leadership role himself, more frequently -- I need to go to his work dinners and parties and play the good wife. A schmoozer and a socializer I am not, but for the most part I don't mind this role. I'm proud of the Smelmooo, and want to support him, and most of the people are lovely and I have a fine time smiling and chatting and trying to be charming. I've always done better around grown-ups than around my peers, so I actually am, in a weird way, in my element at these things, even if I don't have a ton in common with the other participants, and even if I always struggle to match names with faces with stories, and always resort to saying "So nice to see you," just to cover my ass in case I've actually met this person on three separate occasions during the last 4 years, but have zero recollection of doing so.
And it's fodder for bonding with my mom, who has been playing the good wife at my dad's work events for almost 45 years now, although now that he's retired she takes the occasional out, leaving him on his own so she can curl up for a night alone with a good book or bad tv, eating soup or a tuna sandwich, happy as a clam. But my mom's more than paid her dues, and she's been an excellent role model, being gracious and graceful even if inside she's rolling her eyes and thinking this person she's talking to could not be more pretentious or dopey or full of himself. Thanks, Mom!
Anyway, since our marriage nearly 7 months ago (which, by the way, has flown), the Smelmooo and I had a handful of events to attend, including a meeting in Hawaii, but this weekend was the big annual convention (my third) where pretty much all of the Smelmooo's work folk gather, and it's one of the only big events for which I'm actually registered and listed in the conference program(lots of times the "spouses' programs" are incredibly painful and sexist, like scarf-tying seminars and make-up tips and junk, and in the past I've mostly been spared, although, again, as husband assumes more of a leadership role, the schmoozing with the wives thing becomes more and more necessary...). And I have a little nametag that identifies me as, you know, Ms. Tangent, as opposed to Mrs. Smelmooo.
Which, you know, raises some eyebrows in this crowd.
"I saw you in the program, and I just figured that you'd already gotten divorced and that Smelmooo just has a thing for women named Tangent."
"Wait, you're married? But...wait...you're Smelmooo, and she's Tangent. I don't get it."
I feel compelled to (over)share here that, on my first trip to the gynecologist after getting married, the discussion went like this:
"So, what's your married name?"
"Still a Tangent, actually."
"Really? Ewwwwwwwwwwww....you married your brother?"
It never really hit me, until after our wedding, how much people care about what the heck my name is. Myself included, actually.
I always thought I'd be fairly laid-back about what people called me after we got married. I didn't keep my name to make a big political statement, or because I am an overly radical feminist, or because I hate the name, or because I hate my in-laws, or because this is a starter marriage (I always found it simultaneously hilarious and horrifying when, in the weeks surrouding our wedding, people would ask about my name, and several said, "Oh, smart! It was a huge pain in the ass to change back after my divorce..."). I kept my name because it's who I am; because I didn't want to give up the identity I'd had for more than 27 years; because my name means something to me and to my graduate school professors and to my other professional contacts.
But somehow, I've started getting annoyed when people assume that I'm a Smelmooo just because it's my husband's name, and downright indignant when they judge me for it. No, no! No judgment! I just wonder how you'll deal with that with the kids...
Because of course you're having kids! Only selfish, heartless, child-hating monsters wouldn't want to have kids!
Luckily, my mom (also a Tangent, just like my dad and me) has trained me well, and I smile my lovely smile, squeeze Smelmoo's hand, sip my drink, try not to spill my food, and roll my eyes and make faces only in my mind. See? I can be a proper wife, even if I don't have the name for it.
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