Frieda y Diego Rivera by Frida Kahlo
Our new landlord just called. I picked up the phone;
“Hello?”
“Hello, uh, Mrs. Burns?”
“Uh, no.”
Silence. I wait. Ball’s in his court.
“Um, is this Darby?”
“Yes, it is.”
“And, uh, you’re not Mrs. Burns?”
“No. I am not. I am Darby Strong.”
I relay this chapter because enough is enough. First of all, I would be Mrs. Burn, no “S”, as my loved one’s surname is Burn. Secondly, are we living in the year 2005, or did I just get bonked on the head with the Betty Crocker cookbook while darning my husbands socks and end up in Patriarchville, USA? Sometimes, it is difficult to tell.
I had reported earlier that our move to the South had unearthed this strange beast, marked by its constant assumption that two heterosexual beings seen together, anywhere, must be married. This beast presides within a huge amount of the population here, but somehow has not spread to the more progressive areas of the South and seems to have never survived in the North. I, being from the North, haven’t the immunity required to deflect the neverending barrage of male identity placed upon my femaleness. My system is weak against the husband assumption strain of the beast, and I don’t particularly care for the shot that helps me get used to it, either.
The best part comes when I mention that I don’t want kids…
Garmachi says
Way to hold out! If my insurance didn’t kick Mrs. Garmachi’s insurance’s ass, we’d still be as cool as you two!
Now… we’ve joined forces and we’re half as cool.
I don’t know what that means.
How’s your tooth? 🙂
Katie says
Tell it sista! I put up with years of that, and even though we’re (ugh) married now, I still hate the connotation that being “husband and wife” imparts on these other people. And I haven’t changed my name (stop and consider just how many things your name is written on – like I’d remember all of them) so I still get to mess with people.
Oh, and wait until they find out that we’re married and we don’t want kids!
Erin says
I have been reading your blog off and on when I get the rare opportunity. I am also what I refer to as a yankee transplant via SCAD. Based on this entry and many others, it seems that you and I have many interests in common. I really admire your ideas and creative inklings. I left Savannah in May to live closer to my job in Beaufort,SC, which is something I deeply regret. I have found it extremely difficult to make new friends here, and the few friends I have remaining in Savannah are not easily available anymore for quick dinner plans, etc. At the risk of sounding like a classified ad, maybe we could have coffee sometime, or meet for drinks. Feel free to read my blog, it is piece-male and random, but the necessary therapy. . . www.http://dialogue-with-the-past.blogspot.com/
Jeff U says
Darby,
Common law marriage begins at 6 months living together – here in SC.
So, how long have you been down here now?
When’s the hitch’en?
btw, love the blog MRS Strong 🙂
Mark Buban says
Wait until the gays start heading south after they ARE married! All HELL will break loose with furious anger…and all the cotton will spontaneously combust…and hoop skirts will be flying in the streets as biscuits without gravy cry for 40 days and 40 nights causing massive flooding that FEMA won’t be able to handle as people escape on homemade rafts built from baskets that most of the local missus’ had done weaved! Satan will LOVE them apples! PEACE Everyone!
Mag says
Same except I definitely do want kids and am mounting an offensive to achieve this (not in a graphic way). I am Ms. Leahy. Only just started after a year to wear wedding ring on correct finger. It’s actually nice.
Anyway you’ll soon be Ms Darby, married lady. Will you keep your name? I didn’t want to lose my name, the journey of me is all tied up in it.
Traditional can be suffocating, I am happy with my own approach.