Tonight was an HBS happy hour at Spangler, the most ostentatious student center ever created. The happy hour was fine, met some lovely people. Met some of the partners (read: wives; I met not a single boyfriend/husband who would be staying in Boston) who told me I had to join the Partners Club. So I checked it out. $125 for two years, so that I can make friends, too. Gee, they even have a day when we get a case and a professor comes and discusses it with us as if we were real HBS students! The application form asks where I went to college (no mention of grad school, but then what’s the point of grad school when all these lovely women already have their M.R.S. degrees) and I get to choose from a list of hobbies. Yes, running and biking are on there. My other choices? Scrapbooking, Quilting, Knitting, Dancing, Cooking. I got a packet of information. Apparently, grammar and spelling–and even spell check–are optional for partners: “HERE ARE A FEW RESTAUARANT RECCOMMENDATIONS FROM PARTNERS THEMSELVES.” I kid you not. I asked Adam if his student package included a list of local grocery stores. He laughed. “Um, no!” Because the partners’ packets did.
The word “wife” has been banished from Adam’s vocabulary. I’m having a mild identity crisis here. Back home, I was a writer, an Amazonian, a board member, a runner, a biker, and a KAG among other things. Oh, yeah, and Adam was my boyfriend and then husband. But here, here I am few of these things. Yes, I’m a writer (“So where do you write right now? Oh, nowhere? Ah, I see”) and I am unemployed (not an identity I plan to embrace). And, oh, yes, I’m Adam’s wife. That’s how people know me here. “Oh, you’re Adam’s wife.” I already have issues with the fact that everyone assumes my last name is Medros. After telling Adam about this little crisis of mine he made the mistake tonight of saying to someone, “My wife loves sushi.” An innocuous statement, yes. A true statement, yes. A statement made with pride and love (I know he adores being married). But mere seconds after it came out of his mouth he saw my glare and instantly knew his mistake. He is now forbidden to refer to me as his wife in any circumstance. He can be my husband all he wants, but I shall not be “wife.” My name is Jenny Brown. Everyone now: Jenny Brown.
i randomly found your blog as i was googling for information about holidazzle so i could figure out what to wear. my boyfriend goes to hbs, and i’m feeling like i’m in the same boat you were… i’m not a CWIT by any means and so it’s going to be odd visiting him and his hbs buddies for the first time for the formal….
It can be tough. But the funny thing is, I actually made some very good friends and it was eye-opening for me to learn that folks outside of my comfort zone (such as Republicans and other conservatives :-)) could actually be nice and smart and fun and the kind of people I want to hang out with. By the sheer fact that you’re not living out here, it means you have an identity all your own, so I bet you come out and have a great time. And if not, well, then you have something you can blog about! 🙂