I want to slap my would-be in-laws
Dear Wilhemina I’ve been seeing a man for three years, and we recently moved in together. His family have always been nice to me, but this “living in sin” thing obviously bothers them. They’ve taken to introducing me as his wife, and his mother seizes every opportunity to send me things in the post (including flowers) so she can address me as “Mrs Robert Vance.” My partner understands my annoyance, but says it’s harmless. I, on the other hand, want to slap them and yell at the top of my lungs WE ARE NOT MARRIED AND WE ARE NOT GETTING MARRIED. Thoughts? Not Mrs Robert Vance
Dear Not Mrs Robert Vance Yes, it’s irritating—insensitive and pushy, too. But you might be making too much of it. Go ahead and fantasise about slapping them, but I would advise you to quietly stick to your guns. A smiling “actually, we’re not married” as you get introduced to people may do the trick over time, and get your “husband” to join in: social embarrassment can be a powerful persuader. After all, aside from them marrying you without your consent, your relationship with your would-be in-laws sounds rather nice: post and flowers? Oh, the underhanded bastards! How dare they? Wilhemina
Should a family with four kids pay more?
Dear Wilhemina For the past five years we’ve been going on holiday with two other families. We rent a house somewhere and split the cost equally. But while two of us have small families, with one or two children, the third couple has now expanded to four, and we have to rent a bigger house to accommodate everyone. So we’ve suggested that we divide the rent by the total number of people (counting everyone aged over two) and each pay a proportional share. The family with four children are outraged and are threatening to go on holiday alone due to our “pettiness.” Are we being petty? JG
Dear JG I see your point. The arrangement you’ve had was at once equitable, practical and pleasant, and if it isn’t equitable anymore, you should address that imbalance. But surely there are other benefits from it: everyone has a break because childcare, cooking and whatever else is shared; the children entertain each other and you have a ready-made group of adult friends. Everyone wins. Without the third family, you’d probably end up paying about the same for a smaller house split between two families. Plus, with a much younger child in tow, the third family might spend more time in the house looking after the other kids, giving everyone else more of a break. Will the monetary saving trump the advantages, or is the little holiday party worth preserving because it’s greater than the sum of its parts? Adam Smith would no doubt say the latter: with three families, you are getting much better economies of scale. It may not be financially equitable, but it seems pretty fair. More to the point: it’s practical. Wilhemina
Am I invisible to men?
Dear Wilhemina This is slightly in jest, but I’m rattled enough to write in. The other night I was out with six women friends, ranging in age from early thirties to mid-forties. We were in a bar when six men walked in. We engaged and flirted mildly. It was all good fun—until I realised that I was invisible. I’m the oldest, though not by much, and certainly not the least attractive. Yet youth seemed to trump everything. It was as if I didn’t exist. I know that there are more important things than being looked at or noticed by men, but increasingly I seem not to figure in their world at all. It feels like one of those major transitions that no one tells you about but completely changes your sense of self and of life. Any advice? Jill C
Dear Invisible Jill I’m surprised that this has come as such a shock to you; it’s a rather well-documented issue. Ironically, I’d venture that if you’d ever paid the slightest attention to middle-aged women and what they say, you’d find reams on “invisible woman syndrome.”
Never mind why we become invisible (WC Fields once said that “you’re only as old as the woman you feel”). The question is how to make the most of however old you are. There’s a lot of guff about how 50 is the new 40 and how things have changed for “mature” women. Things aren’t that simple. The role of the middle-aged woman is more ill-defined than ever—no longer the authoritative matron of the past (Beryl Bainbridge’s well-rounded Marges and Nellies), nor quite the confident, optimistic “new women” of the modern fantasy. The trick is to find the sweet spot of your age bracket. Being less visible can be liberating. Might part of the reason you’re not as “attention grabbing” be that you’re not wasting time grabbing attention? And is this thanks to a confidence and ease few women enjoy earlier in life?
Of course, flirting can be life-affirming, not just because of vanity (though this shouldn’t be ignored; as Ava Gardner once said, “Deep down, I’m pretty superficial”). The playfulness of exchange, the glimpse of understanding, the sheer wit of well-executed flirtation makes one feel part of the human race. That’s what you need to hold on to: where those pleasures occur. It may no longer be in bars. So, where next? Wilhemina
Send your problems—in confidence—to wilhemina@prospect-magazine.co.uk
Dear Wilhemina I’ve been seeing a man for three years, and we recently moved in together. His family have always been nice to me, but this “living in sin” thing obviously bothers them. They’ve taken to introducing me as his wife, and his mother seizes every opportunity to send me things in the post (including flowers) so she can address me as “Mrs Robert Vance.” My partner understands my annoyance, but says it’s harmless. I, on the other hand, want to slap them and yell at the top of my lungs WE ARE NOT MARRIED AND WE ARE NOT GETTING MARRIED. Thoughts? Not Mrs Robert Vance
Dear Not Mrs Robert Vance Yes, it’s irritating—insensitive and pushy, too. But you might be making too much of it. Go ahead and fantasise about slapping them, but I would advise you to quietly stick to your guns. A smiling “actually, we’re not married” as you get introduced to people may do the trick over time, and get your “husband” to join in: social embarrassment can be a powerful persuader. After all, aside from them marrying you without your consent, your relationship with your would-be in-laws sounds rather nice: post and flowers? Oh, the underhanded bastards! How dare they? Wilhemina
Should a family with four kids pay more?
Dear Wilhemina For the past five years we’ve been going on holiday with two other families. We rent a house somewhere and split the cost equally. But while two of us have small families, with one or two children, the third couple has now expanded to four, and we have to rent a bigger house to accommodate everyone. So we’ve suggested that we divide the rent by the total number of people (counting everyone aged over two) and each pay a proportional share. The family with four children are outraged and are threatening to go on holiday alone due to our “pettiness.” Are we being petty? JG
Dear JG I see your point. The arrangement you’ve had was at once equitable, practical and pleasant, and if it isn’t equitable anymore, you should address that imbalance. But surely there are other benefits from it: everyone has a break because childcare, cooking and whatever else is shared; the children entertain each other and you have a ready-made group of adult friends. Everyone wins. Without the third family, you’d probably end up paying about the same for a smaller house split between two families. Plus, with a much younger child in tow, the third family might spend more time in the house looking after the other kids, giving everyone else more of a break. Will the monetary saving trump the advantages, or is the little holiday party worth preserving because it’s greater than the sum of its parts? Adam Smith would no doubt say the latter: with three families, you are getting much better economies of scale. It may not be financially equitable, but it seems pretty fair. More to the point: it’s practical. Wilhemina
Am I invisible to men?
Dear Wilhemina This is slightly in jest, but I’m rattled enough to write in. The other night I was out with six women friends, ranging in age from early thirties to mid-forties. We were in a bar when six men walked in. We engaged and flirted mildly. It was all good fun—until I realised that I was invisible. I’m the oldest, though not by much, and certainly not the least attractive. Yet youth seemed to trump everything. It was as if I didn’t exist. I know that there are more important things than being looked at or noticed by men, but increasingly I seem not to figure in their world at all. It feels like one of those major transitions that no one tells you about but completely changes your sense of self and of life. Any advice? Jill C
Dear Invisible Jill I’m surprised that this has come as such a shock to you; it’s a rather well-documented issue. Ironically, I’d venture that if you’d ever paid the slightest attention to middle-aged women and what they say, you’d find reams on “invisible woman syndrome.”
Never mind why we become invisible (WC Fields once said that “you’re only as old as the woman you feel”). The question is how to make the most of however old you are. There’s a lot of guff about how 50 is the new 40 and how things have changed for “mature” women. Things aren’t that simple. The role of the middle-aged woman is more ill-defined than ever—no longer the authoritative matron of the past (Beryl Bainbridge’s well-rounded Marges and Nellies), nor quite the confident, optimistic “new women” of the modern fantasy. The trick is to find the sweet spot of your age bracket. Being less visible can be liberating. Might part of the reason you’re not as “attention grabbing” be that you’re not wasting time grabbing attention? And is this thanks to a confidence and ease few women enjoy earlier in life?
Of course, flirting can be life-affirming, not just because of vanity (though this shouldn’t be ignored; as Ava Gardner once said, “Deep down, I’m pretty superficial”). The playfulness of exchange, the glimpse of understanding, the sheer wit of well-executed flirtation makes one feel part of the human race. That’s what you need to hold on to: where those pleasures occur. It may no longer be in bars. So, where next? Wilhemina
Send your problems—in confidence—to wilhemina@prospect-magazine.co.uk
