Page List


Font:  

Did he care that he, too, was being “used”?

Absolutely not.

Men, Arnold explained, don’t care why a woman is having sex with them as long as she is having sex with them.

Plus, he reminded me, men have the power because if one woman doesn’t meet their demands, there’s always another woman who will. It’s a script that men with money control and continue to control even into old age—as long as they’re able to provide something some “greedy” woman wants. Like an expensive handbag.

But what if the world were different and the income stream flowed in the opposite way? Not toward Arnold but to those women with the kids and no way to make more money. What if the world were completely different and there were no women who “needed” to have sex with Arnold for any reason?

What the hell would happen to Arnold?

* * *

* * *

I went over to Sassy’s house and told her all about the date. We agreed it was the same old, same old: you think a guy is maybe going to turn out to be great and at least have one or two unexpected depths, but then he turns out to just be another sexist jerk looking to get his wienie waxed. This, Sassy explained, was the reason why she’d never managed to get married. She’d be in a relationship for a while and then all of a sudden, something wild and independent and fierce would rise up inside her and say, Why?

“I finally figured out that it’s not possible to have a real partner in life because relationships are inherently sexist,” she said. “You have to be the mommy and the caretaker and when they want to have sex, you have to want to have sex and at a certain point a part of me would say, ‘Why? Why am I doing all this for you and what am I getting out of it?’”

And there it was, the question that women are never supposed to ask when it comes to relationships. What am I getting out of it?

Because who cares, right? Who cares what the woman is getting out of it as long as someone else is getting something out of her.

And then we did what we always do when we come up against the intractable realities of life.

We laughed.

The Spouse-Child

Here is another common type who is now unfettered and on the loose. Like the hot-drop, he has also become sectionorced unintentionally. But unlike the hot-drop, he is not, well, hot.

Indeed, he’s usually pretty much of a mess. Which isn’t, perhaps, surprising. This guy is the one women are referring to when they make comments like: “I have three children. Two actual children and my husband.”

Like most unions, the spouse-child’s marriage began with the best intentions—as a contemporary marriage where both partners worked and would try to share everything equally. But somewhere along the way, usually after the second child, it all falls apart. Even if she works—and she most probably does—the responsibilities of running the house and taking care of the children fall to her. When she asks her husband to help out, he pouts or gets angry or needs so many instructions it’s easier to do it herself.

And that’s the first brick in the wall of resentment.

This, of course, is no reason to get sectionorced. If it were, nearly everyone would be. Indeed, the tricky thing about the spouse-child is that outside the house, he’s a perfectly nice guy. He does all the things perfectly nice guys do. He goes to work. He goes to his kids’ school events. He’s there—physically anyway—for holidays and birthdays. He could be anyone’s husband.

But at home it’s a different story. It’s not just that he doesn’t do his share of the housework, but it’s also that as time goes on he does less and less of his share of everything. He’s there but not there. Not intellectually, not emotionally, and not sexually. He doesn’t take care of himself, makes no effort, and lets himself go. He gains weight, which makes his sleep apnea worse. At night he disappears into his snoring machine.

Eventually, he stops going through the motions at all.

Meanwhile, his wife lies next to him in despair, staring at the ceiling and wondering what the hell happened to her marriage and how the hell she ended up like this and how the hell is she supposed to fix it?

If her husband does understand how unhappy she is, he ignores it. Because, while he isn’t necessarily happy, the spouse-child’s marriage is convenient for him. Like the child his wife declares him to be, he makes very little effort but nevertheless gets most of his needs met. And for his needs that aren’t met, well, there’s always the internet.

And so, while he’s there but not there, he isn’t planning on going anywhere anytime soon.

This is something his wife instinctually knows. And what she realizes is that if she doesn’t do something now, if she doesn’t pull the trigger on this marriage, she’s only going to get older and unhappier until one day she’s too old and tired to leave.

So, while the spouse-child hides out in his “home office”—a misnomer since he’s never produced any actual work there—his wife starts thinking about how great it would be if he were gone. How much she could use his closet space and the time spent picking up after him.

How much better it would be if he just went away and never came back.

And one day and seemingly out of the blue, she asks for a sectionorce.

The spouse-child is taken off guard and throws a tantrum. In his mind, he’s blameless. It’s all her fault.


Tags: Candace Bushnell Fiction