The Not-So-New-ly Weds

My name is Mrs. B. I'm a 2B, meaning I've been married for two years now. I'm madly in love with my husband, and I am happy to report that our marriage is going very well. Since this blog is devoted to my experience with marriage, I don't feel like I'm gloating when I say that. Which is nice. Because too often, I do feel like I'm gloating when I talk about how happy I am. Why? Well...

Because I'm married. But I'm also a 23-year old, second-year law student. Also a sister, a best friend, a daughter, a swimmer, a reader. And an English major, a poet, a political thinker, a funloving individual.

Mr. B is married (obviously). He's also a onetime psychology major, an aspiring ecologist, a history buff with a passion for learning. He's a poker player, a hiker, a musicologist. Also a barista, a bartender, an avid reader, a record collector... and you guessed it, a funloving individual.

Surely by now you see the theme. People- above all young people, the people we hang out with most- look at the two of us, see the rings on our fingers, and form this image in their minds of glowing fireplaces, puppies curled up at the foot of the bed and old-fashioned pipe smoke curling into the cinnamon-apple-pie scented air. They see me in aprons and curlers even though I own neither; they see Jeff with a briefcase even though he makes drinks for a living.

People don't seem to realize that in today's world, married couples aren't always together; unfortunately, Mr. B and I are alone quite a lot- I work 8-6 most days and he works 2-10 (forty miles from home so its more like 1-11). Or, even worse, they take the two or three times you had to decline an invitation so you could spend some time with your spouse for the first time in a week as evidence of your domestic preference.

Granted, this problem is resolved relatively simply. It just takes an honest discussion with one's friends about why it sucks that you never get invited anywhere, because they thought you'd be home playing patty cake with your husband (or wife). Happily, my single friends have gotten much better about changing their mental image of me, barefoot and pregnant in my spotless kitchen. I don't resent my young compatriots for their assumptions, but I kind of resent the uphill battle it's been to change them.