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Edited on Tue Jul-24-07 01:14 PM by Writer
So my buddy got married a few years ago. We were happy for him. She seemed like a nice girl, and we accepted her into our coterie of friends. She was Mrs. X, after all, and although her religious beliefs didn't match ours, we invited her to dinners, parties at our house, and to many of our game nights.
You see, we called her Mrs. X while stabbing our tongues in our cheeks, thinking that she too saw the levity in our comments, until we realized how rarely she laughed. "I'm Mrs. X," she'd say, shaking our hands. "Or you can call me XW," which stood for our friend X's Wife. It wasn't a joke at all. In fact, Mrs. X was quite serious about referring to herself as Mrs. X. She refuses her first name, her submission pledge at the altar taken with pure determination.
We are an understanding lot. "That's her thing," we said to ourselves as we dissected it all. "It's how she chooses to live her life, as long as she and X are happy." And they seemed happy, with nearly every evening but Thursdays filled with church socials, meetings, pot luck dinners, and bible study. X's 30th birthday arrived earlier this year, and Mrs. X spared no detail in preparing an extraordinary, colorful pirate party for him, as they both are (oddly), self-avowed pirate fanatics. We all attended, their church friends surrounding us. We patiently prayed with them and ate merrily.
I'm not a stickler for stereotypes, but a wise person once mentioned in college that all stereotypes have a basis in reality. I never assumed my fundamentalist friends would yank out their NIV bibles and start preaching at parties and dinners, but I did wonder, especially about my friend X. A person who believes men should lead and his wife should submit can't carry that belief system outside of their house, I considered. It wasn't until a few choice game nights when I realized X overruled my thoughts and controlled the playing environment. His voice an octave below his natural tone, he would stiffen his neck and hold himself upright. A man! Or at least, a play at a man. A wannabe man from books and movies. But not X the Man. "Hor hor hor," he'd laugh at my other friend's jokes, his voice with a hint of Gregory Peck's Atticus Finch. Maybe X has always been a misogynist. Maybe. Or maybe he wishes for days long gone, when men were men, and women were Betty Crocker. The stories of books, magazines, and movies. But not of people. Of history. Oddly, they neither subscribe to cable nor have an antenna. These are messages received long ago.
Mrs. X is outspoken, if not uninhibited, and I saw this as an example of her retaining her beliefs while still living in the world. However, Mrs. X is a God Warrior, seeking out subtexts in any comment or bit of media. "Anything is now regarded as sexual harassment!" she said to me one evening when I happened upon the subject in light conversation. I didn't mention my own awful dealings with sexual harassment in my early twenties, a horrid experience that nearly cost me everything. I nodded, avoiding her glaring look and implied debate. There's little room for polite conversation when a snake sits before you, coiled and ready. "She did that because her baby was hungry!" she said one evening to another friend of ours who unfortunately complained about seeing a naked breast in public. I frowned as I watched yet another conversational topic cross itself off the list.
But X and Mrs. X are my friends and, as Utopian as their beliefs may be, they do accept us for who we are. They play Dungeons and Dragons with us. They give gifts at our birthdays. They will likely join us when we go see the next Harry Potter movie. But here exists a fragile balance, between friendship and beliefs. Between judgment and life. I think the only way to deal with judgmentalism is not to judge back, and that has preserved something very precious: friendship.
~Writer~
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