On Feminism and Traveling Husbands
When my husband is away on a business trip, I miss him.
Now – being exceedingly and relentlessly vaccinated in the 1970’s with Feminism, I feel ashamed of my loneliness. A woman should stand on her own and be self-actuated. Pah! on the lily-livered unfortunate who must have a man to validate her existence. Bother! to a woman who cannot fill her time with pursuits that fulfill her solitary goddess-ness. Disdain! heaped high on females for substandard performance.
Ouch.
When I stand on the outside of Paradise, looking in at sun-drenched raptures, I thank my mother for her gifts to me. My culture would have me bow my head and shoulders but even as I do, my mother’s voice interrupts the debasement.
Whaaaaat? What are they talking about?
My mom was a pistol, an especially independent woman, not so easy to live with or grow up under, exacting, humor-filled, tough, unconventional, and much in love with my father.
My brother, who knows me well, says that I have Mom’s stubborn independence – as does his daughter, my niece. And to that I would add a few more of Mom’s granddaughters to the list …
And we love our husbands.
(Now – I, of all of them, have had more than the current husband, just as my mom was married before she married my dad. And I loved my former husband, truth be told. Still, he didn’t love me. So, I am my mother’s daughter after all and will not be treated just any ole way, I closed a door. Sometimes you break your own heart to do what’s right.)
And we love our husbands.
When he is away, I miss him. Of course I love the first night. I call out for wicked pizza, I leave my clothes and shoes just wherever, and I stay up until God-knows-when watching every girl-movie produced. Ahhhhh!
But then very soon life encroaches and I have things to share with him. Or I wonder what’s happening with him. The house is too quiet. Cooking for one is too much trouble. Walking these two head-strong Scotties is a trial. Nights are too long without him
I am content to be much in love with my husband. I long, on another level, to be accepted by women of my culture but how can I betray my own heart? I am, after all, in love. Perhaps that will gain me mercy with them.
Still, if alienation is the price, I will pay it – with joy and sorrow.
Now – being exceedingly and relentlessly vaccinated in the 1970’s with Feminism, I feel ashamed of my loneliness. A woman should stand on her own and be self-actuated. Pah! on the lily-livered unfortunate who must have a man to validate her existence. Bother! to a woman who cannot fill her time with pursuits that fulfill her solitary goddess-ness. Disdain! heaped high on females for substandard performance.
Ouch.
When I stand on the outside of Paradise, looking in at sun-drenched raptures, I thank my mother for her gifts to me. My culture would have me bow my head and shoulders but even as I do, my mother’s voice interrupts the debasement.
Whaaaaat? What are they talking about?
My mom was a pistol, an especially independent woman, not so easy to live with or grow up under, exacting, humor-filled, tough, unconventional, and much in love with my father.
My brother, who knows me well, says that I have Mom’s stubborn independence – as does his daughter, my niece. And to that I would add a few more of Mom’s granddaughters to the list …
And we love our husbands.
(Now – I, of all of them, have had more than the current husband, just as my mom was married before she married my dad. And I loved my former husband, truth be told. Still, he didn’t love me. So, I am my mother’s daughter after all and will not be treated just any ole way, I closed a door. Sometimes you break your own heart to do what’s right.)
And we love our husbands.
When he is away, I miss him. Of course I love the first night. I call out for wicked pizza, I leave my clothes and shoes just wherever, and I stay up until God-knows-when watching every girl-movie produced. Ahhhhh!
But then very soon life encroaches and I have things to share with him. Or I wonder what’s happening with him. The house is too quiet. Cooking for one is too much trouble. Walking these two head-strong Scotties is a trial. Nights are too long without him
I am content to be much in love with my husband. I long, on another level, to be accepted by women of my culture but how can I betray my own heart? I am, after all, in love. Perhaps that will gain me mercy with them.
Still, if alienation is the price, I will pay it – with joy and sorrow.
posted by PajamaGirl at
4:03 PM
3 Comments:
Very well put. From another Husband-lover.
My husband travels alot and right now he is in NO for Katrina relief. He has been gone for about a week and I am enjoying the time to myself and with my friends. I like when he travels its like a little vacation. I am always happy when he returns but I just focus on me while he's away (which is something I don't usually get to do).
I have been in love with my husband for 45 years--my one and only, my first and last. I was 19; he was 21. We are seldom apart. When we do separate from one another, the coming back together is so, so sweet. He works here at home, so we have lots of time together--great cups of coffee, interesting chats, walks down the driveway hand in hand. I'm a romantic and make no apology. Kisses and hugs and the special way he treats me, I wouldn't trade for all the tea in China! Love you, Laura--Ginny
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