Mrs_America

When I was small, I intended to never marry. My mother used to look at me, rolling her eyes, and talk about my feminism and independence. Pride. Strength. She used positive words. Other moms might have told me me I was a little madam and given me a cuff, but my mom made sure I treasured my own ferocity. This made me think I was too strong, too proud, to submit to any man (or woman, for that matter). I Don't take orders, I would proudly announce. I question everything. I had a massive chip on my shoulder and a serious problem with authority... the roughest edges were worn off, I hope! I'm still pretty mouthy, and very proud, but I like to think the worst of my complex has gone.

I did think, though, that to marry- to submit to a partnership- made a woman less the master (mistress?) of her own fate, and therefore less of a Woman. Or less the sort of woman (warrior) that I wanted to be. So I avoided the idea completely.

Then I went and got married to an alpha male when I was 24. That first year, I dashed home after work every day to make sure dinner was ready when he was; I did all the laundry. I dreamed of making his breakfast in bare feet as I danced around the kitchen, singing to our babies (the kids have yet to appear). Himself makes the decisions and I abide by them. Not perhaps the most liberated thing in the world. What changed?

Every ship has a captain. Every pack has an alpha, every committee has a head. Businesses have CEOs and media projects have Executive producers. Every time in the history of the natural world that a group of individuals come together to strive for a common goal, there emerges a Leader. And in our marriage, my husband is the Leader.

Now, a Captain is an almost irreproachable authority, right? He had to go to the Officer's Academy, he had to go from the bottom up, he learned as he went and one day, he was given command of his own vessel. The Captain of a ship is in charge for a good reason: because he knows his sh!t. My husband is 5 years older than me and aeons wiser. He has had life experiences I have not, couldn't dream of. The man is Smart. Street wise. Savvy.

I am, of course, quite intelligent and not too shy to say so! I am educated. I like to think I'm classy when I remember my manners and good fun when I don't. But I am a stranger in a strange land, an immigrant, and all the things my mom taught me count for jack. Out of my element, I let my husband take charge of situations because he knows the ropes (to continue the nautical metaphor) when I don't. BUT there are a few areas of expertise in which I know a lot more than him, and some of that is even applicable.

Every Ship has a captain, AND a medical officer. The ship's medical officer can tell the Captain, in some instances, exactly where to shove it. When the circumstances are there, the medical officer has the final say and the captain just makes sure their orders are carried out. And that's me. I don't always do what Captain Hubby says, and I have never done as he suggested over my own better judgement. Doctor's orders trump the Captain.

I used to think that it was weird, a liberated, head-strong girl like me happy with a man who's pretty used to be being obeyed. I have dated men- boys, more like- who were happy for me to boss them around. I found it exhausting, making my own way in the world and dragging their heavy dead weight too. And, what was worse, they could never point out when I was being a cow. They were too scared of me. And every woman should have someone in her life that tells her when she needs to take a chill pill. I wanted a man who could be my equal.

And then I met my husband. From our first disagreement, he never backed down. I didn't snap my fingers and bring him to heel- nor does he to me. We go toe to toe, debating, arguing even, until one of us relents or we come to a compromise. He never gives me an inch and he calls me on everything. Just like I do him. If he tells me not to worry my pretty head, I know I can trust he's seeing to it. And if I'm tired, or busy, I can leave things to him and he makes sure they get done. He's competent and reliable and generous with his time and effort, all of which make for a good captain.

He and I are equals, with a Venn diagram of expertise. When I know better, I take the lead. When it's his sort of thing, I do what he says. That's a partnership. That's a marriage.

I rushed home to make the dinner because he was working two jobs, and it isn't right to make a man with a 70 hour work week do the cooking when my work week was only 37 hours. And I did the laundry because if he does it, the socks will invariably come out pink. Regardless of what colour they started as. There isn't enough room in cyber space for me to list all the things he does for me.

So I've forgiven my inner uber-feminst for selling out, getting married, and being deliriously happy to be in the company of a big strong hairy male who has this habit of making everything that's mean and nasty go away. I am happy to serve as medical officer under the Captain. Every wolf pack has an alpha male, and the husband is him.

I'm the alpha bitch.