All Things Change

If the title has led you to believe that this post is about pre-tribulation rapture theology, then I apologize profusely. And just in case you did want to read about the rapture take a look around… we’re all still here!

No. This post will look at being a “Trailing Spouse”, or “Trailer” as I prefer to be known. For all you folk not living the expatriate life: when a couple/family live and work abroad the wife may stay “at home” (i.e. work for no financial gain) and they are some times known as the “expat wife”. And the word work is used differently in this context because in developing countries there’s often the opportunity to employ house hold help so it can be more of home management than domestic work. A friend once said that if re-incarnation was real, then he hoped to come back as an expat wife… plenty of time for study, friends, coffee, shopping, massages, pedicures, travel, etc…

So in the expatriate situation what do you call the man when the wife works and the husband (or equivalent) manages the household for no financial gain? Well, you call him the gender free title of “Trailing Spouse” (a close cousin of the house husband). Besides following, straggling and causing drain as our title suggests we find our self-worth in places we never thought possible.

Our self worth is in responding to the cries of our young children telling us, “I need poo poo” or “I need wee wee” or “My doodle’s ouchy”.

Then of course there’s the stuff you get to teach your young children when the mother is out, like:
Guns are bad.
Thumbs up = good.
Thumbs down = bad.
Selected quotes from the Simpsons.
How to blame others when you belch.
How to massage dad’s back.
The finer points of wrestling.
Indoctrinate them with the idea that dad was an international superstar in just about everything.

We are a marginalized group, us “Male Trailers”. Our value is questioned and we are shunned by the expat wives… “It’s just not natural”, they murmur as we pass by. So there’s no invite to study, coffee, shop, massages, pedicures or travel.

But we’re content because we know that the havoc we secretly reek on the impressionable minds of young’ns will have a long term positive impact.

The world will one day not use guns to negotiate, but will use thumbs up or down to solve tricky international incidents. If that fails exchanges of Simpson quotes can be bantered around the room and someone could start some ventriloquistic belches to break the tension. Failing that a round of elderly decision makers being massaged while they watch the young power brokers wrestle should smooth thing over. And heaven forbid that not succeeding, then it’ll all come down to whose dad is better than your dad.

Or of course this could be avoided if the wives (and equivalents) were the primary money earners. This might normalize the male “trailing spouse” experience, then everyone might just be happy and there might be no need for negotiations.

But what’s the chances?