The back story

So… I guess I should share how the wives and I got off to such a shaky start. We’re going back a few years here, but I remember it pretty vividly. This is kind of a longer post, though. Some of my friends have heard this story more than once, so I apologize for repeating. I do have a disclaimer: It takes a lot of courage and strength to be a military wife. I realize most spouse organizations aren’t like this. I just always seem to find the crazy ones.

My husband was stationed in Pensacola for pilot training in 2006. He’d met a guy in class who also had a wife but no children yet and they seemed eager to have another couple to go out with. I had recently received an email from the spouses organization asking me to join and I was so excited. I’d heard so many great things about military wives organizations that I was eager to get involved.

The wives were planning a Sex and the City party. I thought the theme sounded lame, but hey, it was an excuse to meet people and have a cosmo, so I figured I’d go. I think the first thing that should have tipped me off was the responses to the evite: “Can’t wait to get out without the kiddos!”

 The other new wife and I decided to carpool to the middle of nowhere for this thing. I had no idea it would be a story I’d tell for years after. When we finally arrived, it was a house on a poorly lit street in a place I’d never been. We knocked on the door and someone opened it for us introduced herself and walked away.

We found our way into a crowd of women who didn’t seem very interested in meeting new people. It was then, I decided drinks were necessary to continue this evening. I poured myself a weak cosmo from a pitcher and sat on the couch with the other new wife. A few moments later a loud, boisterous woman plopped down next to us and said, “You’re new, aren’t you?” I said we were and introduced myself. She started talking about military stuff and I had no clue what she was talking about, so I asked.

Her: “weren’t you a brat?”

Me: “Well, I was a little spoiled growing up, but I wouldn’t call myself a brat.”

Her: “No! I mean a military brat! Duh!”

She proceeded to explain how most of the women there had grown up with a parent in the service, thus the term, “Military brat.” She was pretty loud, and I noticed a lot of the other women avoiding her. I was starting to understand why. I excused myself to get another weak drink and hopefully away from loud wife.

I came back into the living room and started a conversation with another woman. She introduced herself and asked how old my children were. I explained that we’d only been married a few months and didn’t have any. She then walked away without another word! Seriously?!? If there hadn’t been a witness, I’d have thought I was making it up! I stood there with my mouth wide open. I couldn’t speak for surprise. Did someone just walk away mid sentence because I couldn’t set up a play date? Wow. Just wow.

After I recovered from the shock of that rudeness, I started a conversation with another woman. She seemed well spoken and stated how nice it was to meet another sorority girl and college graduate.

Her: “So what was your major?”

Me: “Theatre with a minor in hospitality management.”

Her: “well, what the hell did you think you were going to do with that degree?”

Again, I was a little shocked by her forwardness. I so wanted to say “I act like I’m nice to people like you!” But instead, I explained that I work for both hospitality and an entertainment company and it was perfect for me. I also explained that I traveled to my hometown often for work. She followed up with, “but who cooks for your husband when you’re gone?” I thought she was kidding at first, but alas, the night of surprises continues. I jokingly said, “He’s a big boy, he knows how to use the microwave.” This answer did not seem to please her and she excused herself.

It’s a little catty, and I’m not really proud of this thought, but as she walked away, I noticed her purse said “Prado.” Really? If you’re going to judge me, at least get a better fake, something that spells Prada correctly. As I looked around the room a little better, I saw more of this. Women in designer knock off tops that were a few sizes too small, women in little black dresses (that were not maternity wear) who were visibly pretty far along in their pregnancy. There were also women who were in need of a good wax… I’ll spare you those details. Again, I’m not proud of myself for thinking the easy, petty thing, but at the time, it made me feel a little better about myself.

When I saw the woman who brought her 8 month old and was now over 6 months pregnant, I decided it was time to leave. I left that night feeling pretty bad about myself and it wasn’t just the mostly juice cosmos I’d had. I went over the night in my head multiple times trying to figure out what I did wrong. After replaying the story so many times for friends, I realized it wasn’t me. I decided that I was going to stay away from that bunch.

Again, I realize that most military wives aren’t like that, I just seem to find them… or they find me.