Why “Wife” Is A Dirty Word

by Jeanann Pannasch

“Dude…” I finally managed to reply. What I wanted to say to his barf challenge was that there ought to be some sort of line we didn’t cross sharing those kinds of details with each other. Instead, all that popped out was: “I’m your wife.”

Then I realized that the word “wife” actually made it sound like I should be reveling in his graphic recount, and, I suppose, sharing my own. After all, I wasn’t his “girlfriend,” “lover,” or “fiancée.” And wife, let’s face it, is a dirty word—and not the good kind of dirty.

A wife might buy your toilet paper. She might wash your underwear. She’s expected to be the willing, concerned ear, listening like your mommy would, to the details of your popped blisters. Once I realized the absurdity of what I was trying to say, I stammered “…but I still want to be your girlfriend.”

Ah yes, the girlfriend days. The beginning of our romance was a passionate time filled with decadent late-night dinners and weekend road trips to bed and breakfasts up and down the eastern seaboard. But on occasion, after a meal, Andrew wound up with an upset stomach and retreated to the bathroom. I, blissfully unaware of the play-by-play, was left to sip wine and write in my journal about my new love. Unbeknownst to us at the time, Andrew was lactose-intolerant. But my point is that, as my boyfriend, the bathroom door was closed—with good reason. So, why, as my husband, was he trying to blow it wide open?

In truth, it could be my fault. When we first moved in together, I was very candid about discussing my time-of-the-month. He’s not a girl, I figured, let me shine a bright light on the female experience. And that mentality carried over into my pregnancy. I thought, wow, here I am experiencing this miracle of life, the least that I can do is to share my own notes on the underbelly. Like this:
“Hey babe, I just peezed.”