Doubts about Living in Sin

I have a confession to make: I have status wife envy. Oh, I remember the time in the late '80s when having a live-in-partner was de rigeur. Back then, trophy wives where the subject of ridicule and smug mockery. It was valued to be an independent, wage-earning, I-don't-need-a-husband-to-complete-me, last-name-retaining, significant other. Now it seems that the status wife is reigning triumphantly while some common-law equivalents sit miserably in the weeds complaining about their lot in life. No pre-nup? No nanny? No seven-figure income? No golf club membership? You call yourself a wife?

There are three kinds of status wives currently in vogue. One is the sexy, very rich foreign-born second wives of U.S. Presidential candidates. Who could dislike environmentalist and ketchup heiress Teresa Heinz Kerry? Then there are the lucious yummy mummies like sexy British foodie Nigella Lawson who prepares brilliant gourmet meals, has her own TV show, is gorgeous and married well - twice. At the top of the heap are the self-made millionaire cult figures like the newly renovated Esther, a.k.a. Madonna, entertainer, author of children's books, yoga enthusiast, and zealous Kabbala follower.

I have to admit to feeling left out of the cultural matrix (not to mention the lifestyle pages of the daily newspapers). Where is the earnest, frumpy, Cotton Ginny-clad, common-law wife? Has she been completely forgotten, set aside, ignored, and dispensed with as dull and out-of-favour? You know the kind of woman I mean…we have Women's Studies degrees, fret over our overdue library fines, volunteer, make great hummus, trim our own bangs, and maintain separate bank accounts. We vote Liberal or NDP, believe passionately in equality, dream about building straw bale houses on Vancouver Island, and invest in Ethical Growth Funds at our local credit union.

Politically correct partner

We do not record our own self-titled CDs, pose nude, or litter. Instead, we stuff envelopes at political party headquarters and host well-intentioned potluck book clubs that aren't on any of Oprah's hit lists. You won't see any of us lined up to buy Bill Clinton's memoir in front of a Chapter's bookstore in your neighbourhood. We buy local, subscribe to the "Utne Reader," and the "independents." The more daring among us write and publish poignant chapbooks of poetry. Inclined to New Age neurosis, we also have hand-crafted Worry Dolls tucked underneath our pillows. On the bedside table, our love of female adventurers is evident. It seems that every liberal woman writer I know owns a well-thumbed copy of aviatrix Beryl Marham's memoir West with the Night. We know how to do a reflexology treatment, choose spirituality over organized religion, and are in possession of a lovely set of Mother Peace tarot cards.

We aren't renowned for our marathon shopping habits, expensive shoes, or all- expenses-paid business lunches. We aren't too posh to push in the delivery room and we frequent spas only when our spousal equivalents press gift certificates on us at Christmas time. We buy thrift, or half-price, and only sport make-up when "dressing up." We own one practical little black dress: good for cocktail parties, dinner with clients, and funerals. We work from home and gave up our dressy clothes a decade ago during the last great office purge. We wear comfortable shoes. We take out the garbage, mow the lawn, and pay half the mortgage. Are we real wives or just industrious, upbeat room-mates who also do meal planning, grocery shopping and dishes?

Uncommon aspirations

Is it time for common-law sisters to tie the knot, join the ranks of wife, and enjoy the benefits of their new status? Or, should we wait it out, cruise through our mid-life doubts concerning roads not taken, and wait for the status wife's divorce papers to be filed, signalling the end to yet another obnoxious cultural trend? I do know one thing: if George W. Bush is voted out of the White House this November (and let's hope that he is), there will be a few social changes in the works. Watch for a liberal resurgence in North America and observe progressive common-law partners regaining their previous status as equal citizens and valid contributors to domestic public life.

A recent spate of television programming, books, and magazine articles about the status wife certainly has me temporarily questioning my choices. When did I go off track to become a common-law wife? Perhaps I would have been better off, financially and emotionally, if I'd elected to marry and become a stay-at-home-mum?

CTV's cheesy fall line-up features two intriguing wifely shows, one reality, the other a drama. "Wife Swap" is the cutesy reality TV concept with a dark underbelly that has two women effectively trading places to maintain the other's family. If you've seen the promos you probably remember the chubby, dark-haired pre-teen son calling his mother a "stupid moron" while the next shot has the mother donning a wait-and-see expression that smacks of revenge. Wait till your Stand-In Mother does her stint with you, you back-talking, spoiled brat; we'll see how long you last in the new regime.

'Desperate Housewives'

The other dramatic offering that promises to be this year's "Nip/Tuck" is playfully dubbed "Desperate Houswives." A hybrid of "Knots Landing" and "Six Feet Under," the series is built on the premise of a beautiful housewife committing suicide and then narrating her block's dramatic goings-on from beyond the grave. I don't know about you, but any TV drama with "desperate" in its title is at least worth a look, if only to mine it for comic material.

But what is married life really like? Is it really any better than unconventional common-law set-ups? It seems to me that North America's on-going renovation craze offset with the penchant for gourmet entertaining are just two thinly veiled attempts to inject some much needed glamour into an otherwise ordinary state of being: married life.

What I find most interesting about married life in modernity is that the real story lurks somewhere beneath the carefully chosen textured Berber carpeting. Time magazine recently decried the disturbing uptick in female-led adultery as "shocked" journalists recounted the sneaky, contemporary antics of erstwhile Mrs. Robinsons. I can just see the reactive promotional taglines in Men's Health now: signs that she is cheating, renewed vigour, improved personal hygiene, unaccounted for credit card charges, a gym membership, and increased botox use.

Wedding dodger

Given the choice between married life and the common-law bond I currently enjoy, I think my status quo wins out. I chose to evade marriage when I first encountered anarchist Emma Goldman's assertions about marriage and prostitution being different types of the same slavery. Now, that's a harsh assessment of a venerable institution, but I still contend that marriage is first and foremost an economic tie. Only a true romantic would throw in her lot with another without benefit of the added social status, a pre-nup, a gilded wedding ring, and all of those lovely wedding gifts.

As the status wife enjoys her short Renaissance, I am sitting comfortably in my common-law armchair vigilantly watching for the first signs of her un-doing. But that doesn't mean I can't enjoy an occasional episode of "Desperate Housewives," flip through the vacuous women's magazine Real Simple for casserole recipes, or take in the cautionary remake of Stepford Wives while I wait for the status wife to topple from her precarious pedestal.

Yesterday:

How to Be a Good Wife…in 1913 Vancouver

Modern Marriage and Its Discontents

Freelance journalist Patricia Robertson lives in sin with some envy but no remorse.