Guess What Friend? I Don't Want to Hang Out with Your Husband...Ever

Recently a single mom friend—lets call her Eve—was excited to reunite with an old friend—Willa. The two former pals were excited to take their similar-age daughters to a theme park together, just-us-girls. Then at the last minute, Willa asked if she could bring along her husband, who had long given my single mom friend the ick. Eve called me to ask if I thought she should stand firm on her girls-only request, thinking I’d guilt her into smiling through gritted teeth at Willa’s husband’s presence.

“Absolutely not,” I told her. “You don’t have to share your day of rollercoastering with a man with whom you have never been pals.”

The incident made me think of how a lot of my girlfriends from jobs, support groups and school functions ask if their husbands can come along to hang outs or sit down with us when I’d come by for a drink and a chat. Sometimes, I’m asked to join them at some performance or exhibit in which their spouse acts or paints and my mind reels.

It must be said: Friend, I don’t want to hang out with your husband…ever.

Let me put this as gently as possible: I'm friends with you, not your boyfriend or husband. I am sure they are lovely people (well, that's not what I am sure of at all, however that's a different conversation). In any case, I'm not carving out an evening or afternoon from my busy schedule to chit-chat with your plus-one. I want time with you, girlfriend, and in the same way, there's no way I'd foist my lover on you unless you ask. And even then, probably he’s staying home, because in the words of immortal rock band Chicago, everybody needs a little time away. I count on my girlfriends to give me a refreshing, spouse-free reset.

Look, friend, I understand that there’s an epidemic of male loneliness going on, according to podcasts, Reddit and research; though the trend of social isolation has been noted as far back as the 1920s (back then, radio and automobiles were named as causes), more recently books like Bowling Alone blame loneliness on increased work hours, urban sprawl and tech-enabled entertainment. (In 2017’s One Nation Under Trump, the authors attributed the president’s appeal to voters who were looking for community after overall civic participation had declined.)

I’d like to save you from the cringe of listening to your husband’s repeated golfing anecdote (God bless him), as well as spare myself the burden of pantomiming enjoyment of said golfing anecdote.

And I relate, I really do. My late-teens son spends more time on video games and YouTube than he does hanging out at friends’ houses, and my boyfriend is happy to be way less chatty on friendly phone calls and at get-togethers than I am. Neither complains of loneliness, and while I think it might in some ways be healthier for them to be helping ole Jebediah and the other menfolk down the lane with a barn raising, that’s not our reality. However, I know these guys can figure it out: Just the other day, my guy friend who just moved to Provincetown heard about free “Winter Wednesdays” classes offered to community members on Cape Cod. In these, men and women can enjoy childcare while studying drawing or sculpting, pickleball or even how to talk to hotheaded family members in a course called “Unlearning Political Estrangement.”

I know this might be a harsh note to give in February, the month already overloaded with bad weather and Valentine’s Day performance anxiety, but let’s just rip the Band-Aid off. I’d like to save you from the cringe of listening to your husband’s repeated golfing anecdote (God bless him), as well as spare myself the burden of pantomiming enjoyment of said golfing anecdote. Anyway, this sentiment is mostly not even about him, it’s about us—I treasure my friend time with you and want to really radiate in your glory…without your husband because he really is a bummer, but again, that’s another story!

Besides, where else are we going to go for the necessary and no-judgement airing of the trials of the left-up toilet seat lid?