“I NOW pronounce you husband and wife,” the minister said to Anthony and me 22 years ago. Although I was thrilled about what we were undertaking, I cringed. Being pronounced a “wife” felt archaic and just plain weird. I went with it, squeamish but thankful that at least we’d gotten past the days of “man” and wife.
Years later, though, I was still dodging the vocabulary. “I’m Margot,” I’d say, “and this is my, um, partner, Anthony.”
For our first decade of marriage, Anthony and I employed traditional spouse words only from a distance born of snark:
“Hey Husband, can you use your big strong hands to get the lid off this jar?”
“Hello, Wife. How are you this fine day?”
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