I belong to that classification of people known as wives.
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I am a Wife—though, incidentally, not a mother.
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A male friend of mine recently reappeared on the scene—newly divorced.
He had one child, who—of course—stayed with his ex-wife. He was looking for another wife.
As I thought about him one evening, it suddenly occurred to me that I, too, would like to have a wife.
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Why do I want a wife?
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I want to go back to school—to support myself, and, if absolutely necessary, those around me.
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But I’m not the kind of wife who helps you pursue your dreams or encourages your hobbies—those are distractions
from time better spent on us. I won’t be scheduling “couple time,” if you want to spend time with me, it will be on my schedule, doing things I enjoy, when I'm in the mood.
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I’m not the kind of wife who keeps track of doctor’s appointments.
Not yours. Possibly not even mine.
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I won’t be the wife who cooks—I don’t enjoy it. But when I come home, I expect dinner hot on the table.
I won’t plan meals, make grocery lists, or do the shopping.
And if I feel pressured to cook, it will be so poorly done that you’ll think twice before asking again.
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I won’t clean the house—it’s never clean enough for you anyway, so why try?
I won’t do the laundry or mend clothes. I expect you to be presentable anyway.
I won’t pick up after the children—or after myself.
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I may have lived here for years, but I don’t know where anything is.
It’s just easier if you put everything away—for both of us.
I’m not a naturally nurturing person. My idea of “watching children” is simply being the only conscious adult in the house—from time to time, but only for cheerful children, in short intervals.
You’ll arrange the children’s schooling, playdates, extracurriculars, and enriching weekend activities.
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I have important work to do, so I won’t be getting up in the night with sick children.
I won’t take care of anyone when they’re sick, nor will I make arrangements for special care.
I cannot miss class. My work is important, we discussed the sacrifices we were going to have to make, you signed up for this, remember?
As your wife, I expect you to take time off work when necessary—and not lose your job.
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It may cost me a small cut to my income from time to time, but I suppose I’ll suffer through it.
I expect you to meet my emotional, physical, and mental needs—immediately and instinctively.
Especially before I get angry. You need to know and understand what makes me angry and not push those buttons or I won't be responsible for my actions.
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Nothing you’re doing could possibly be more important than tending to me and keeping me in a good mood.
I’m not the kind of wife who will be bothered by menial tasks. My vacation time is mine.
Do not schedule me with responsibilities. I will not participate in family vacations unless you are willing to handle every detail while I recover from the chaos of our life.
 
Of course, I’ll complain about my endless responsibilities—because they are many and far exceed yours.
You have no idea what it’s like to work this hard and carry so much responsibility.​
I expect you to listen when I explain the difficulty of my coursework.
You are to be an empathetic ear—offering no suggestions. I’ve already thought of everything.
I want you to type my papers—edit, refine, polish—without complaint or credit.
 
As your wife, I will not manage your social life. But you will manage mine.​
When I meet people I like and want to entertain, you will clean the house, cook a special meal, and make yourself presentable before they arrive.
You’ll have already sent the invitations, selected the decorations, curated the music, arranged the seating, and stocked the bar.
You are to serve me and my guests graciously—but not affectionately. That would be inappropriate.
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Do not interrupt me—especially when I’m talking about something important.
Unless you need me to explain it to you in slow, excruciating detail that you couldn't possibly comprehend.
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As your wife, I will not attend to my guests’ needs.
That’s your job—offer seconds, refill wine glasses, serve coffee to their liking.
I also need you to understand that sometimes, I’ll need a night out alone.​
As your wife, I don’t want a conversation about what’s “appropriate behavior.”​ I need to take what I want—because you’re mine.​
If you love me, there should be no boundaries in our love.
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I want you to be attuned to my sexual needs. I expect passionate and attentive lovemaking whenever I desire it.
But I will not tolerate you requesting the same if I’m not in the mood.
I expect you to handle birth control. I do not want children.​
I want emotional and sexual fidelity—so I don’t have to clutter my intellectual life with jealousy.
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And I want the freedom to explore connections with others when I feel compelled—because women have needs, too.
I am not a wife who will continue loving you if you become fat or unattractive.​ You will remain eternally young and appealing.
Baldness, of course, is grounds for replacement.
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I may say I sympathize with your pain or fatigue—but I won’t change my behavior.
No matter how many different ways you try telling me.
Naturally, I expect a fresh start—with someone younger, whom I’ll proudly refer to as my upgraded model.
You will take the children—should they exist—and assume full responsibility, so I may be free.
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When I finish school and establish my dream career,
I expect them to quit their job to take care of me.
After all, that’s what a real partner does.
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My God, who wouldn’t want a life like that?
 
 
 
Adapted by: H.L. Hines
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Original Author: Judy Brady (Syfers)
 
Literature for Composition, (Third Edition)
Sylvan Barnet, Morton Berman, William Burto, Marcia Stubbs.
Copyright 1993
Publisher: HarperCollins Customs Books
Pages 775-776.