It’s a scenario many queer women find themselves in, often sparking humor: you enter a restaurant, hotel, or spa with your partner, and the employee addresses you as, ‘You and… your friend?’ It’s an easy mistake to make. After all, there are fewer openly queer individuals than straight ones, and discerning someone’s relationship isn’t always obvious. However, after a while, this misidentification can grow tiresome. You could be kissing in the doorway, holding hands while walking in, and still be mistaken for best pals.
This stopped happening to me as much after I got married. The matching surnames tend to be a giveaway (although we could, I guess, be sisters with wildly different features), or maybe it’s the wedding bands. Perhaps it’s the way I repeatedly emphasize, ‘My wife.’ Regardless, I’ve noticed that the relationship now carries a weight it previously lacked. This is strange because, besides a piece of paper and some jewelry, nothing significant has changed. ‘Oh, you’re married,’ seems to imply, ‘Then the relationship must be valid.’ Or maybe I’m just being overly paranoid.
I don’t believe this is solely a queer phenomenon, nor do I think it’s always a logistical issue. I believe people truly take you, and your relationship, more seriously once you’re married. It’s a subtle shift, but undeniably noticeable. People inquire about my mortgage, as if owning a house is now a given. Or they assume I’ve abandoned frivolous activities like going to the club (I still enjoy going out, feel free to invite me!). I receive gifts like tea towels and vouchers for expensive furniture. It’s as though, in the span of two months, I’ve inexplicably transformed into a highly serious person, someone who should be addressed as ‘ma’am’ and probably start using special table mats.
In many ways, being treated differently after marriage shouldn’t be a surprise. In the UK, at least, society still favors married individuals, and tying the knot is treated as an accomplishment (even though getting married, administratively, is quite easy). Married couples benefit from reduced capital gains, inheritance, and income tax. Homeownership or renting a flat becomes more attainable, and certain perks, like ‘two-together’ railcards, are easier to obtain. When everyone is bombarded with the message that marriage signifies success, it’s no wonder people treat me as a more mature individual.
Of course, marriage doesn’t fundamentally change anything. You’re no more or less serious than you were before, and certainly not more deserving of societal ease (arguably, single individuals should receive greater support considering there’s only one of them, as a truly equal society would operate). However, the global pressure to marry is centuries old, rooted in archaic ideas about church and state, making its disappearance unlikely in the near future.
I can’t deny it: feeling superficially respected, both as a queer couple and as a person navigating the world, feels good. But it shouldn’t have taken marriage for this to happen. I deserved to be taken seriously as a 22-year-old dating five people simultaneously from the depths of Tinder, just as much as I do now as a married woman. Because, apart from the Tinder situation, I’m still essentially the same person.