From trophy wife to toxic wife

Telegraph ^ | 16 January 2007

[Lorianne]

Decadent stay-at-home wives who take their rich husbands for a ride have finally been rumbled, says Tara Winter Wilson

Once upon a time, there was a truth, universally acknowledged, that a man with a powerful job and a beautiful house must be in want of a wife – preferably of the trophy variety. Domesticated, docile yet dazzling, she was the perfect finishing touch.

Not any more. According to research to be published in the journal Labour Economics, the earnings gap between married couples is narrowing. While in the 1980s it was the case that the higher a professional man's salary the fewer paid hours his wife would put in, men today are more likely to want a dynamic high-flier, an equal who wows him as much in the boardroom as in the bedroom.

Poisonous: 'It is like a perversion of the evolution theory: they have evolved into creatures whose function is simply to get the most for doing the least,’ says one husband A victory for feminism? Sadly not. The reason for this change, sisters, is nothing to be proud of.

Rich men, I believe, have finally cottoned on to the sinister side of the stay-at-home wife: unless you marry an equal who's going to pay her own way, you will end up with a lazy, indulgent, over-pampered slug. For the transition from trophy wife to toxic wife is as fast as the end result is furious.

I should know: many men of my age and acquaintance have become deeply bitter and disappointed about how their wives have changed since they hung up their working wardrobes. I am talking about university-educated women (often Oxbridge graduates) who do a couple of years work in the City before harnessing themselves to a milch cow and "having it all".

Apparently there's a new take on "having it all" – and it's not what the majority of us understood it to mean. Back in the 1970s, it meant effortlessly maintaining a beautiful home, entertaining in grand style, raising perfect children, keeping the husband sweet and having some sort of career in order to create financial independence.

"Superwoman" was the phrase coined for these energetic pioneers; "trophy wives" for the less energetic ones. Today it's a whole new ball game.

"It is like a perversion of the evolution theory: they have evolved into creatures whose function is simply to get the most for doing the least," whispered an exhausted husband to me recently. "I wouldn't mind providing her with so much if she just did something for me occasionally. She's never even once cooked me a meal."

"She doesn't know the definition of sacrifice," said another angry husband. "Relationships are meant to be about compromise, but she is more about selfishness. I bend and adapt to her needs, yet all she gives me are ultimatums."

"Can't you just divorce?" I asked.

"Are you kidding?" he replied. "I'd lose everything I've worked for, including my children, and I'd be paying her an indecent amount of money for life."

"There's another reason these husbands don't divorce," added a sympathetic onlooker. "They don't want to admit to failure – they don't want to be ungallant. There's an unspoken nobility or gentlemanly understanding that divorce is something they don't do."

Indeed, "something they don't do" is a mantra that extends to practically every area of toxic wifedom. Once an intelligent, educated woman who could hold her own in any dinner-party conversation, the toxic wife will do nothing of the sort.

"They not only become utterly vacant, they never throw dinner parties or entertain anyone outside of their small, closeted circle of other vacant wives," said irate husband number one.

"None of us can understand this: they become obsessed with perfection, grooming, with all aspects of their personal appearance… in a word, they become boring."

"Vain, boring, indulgent and lazy," adds yet another voice to the growing army of fed-up husbands. "I have to take the children out of the house every Sunday morning and wander around with them trying to find things to do because my wife must have a lie-in. I'm only allowed back in the house after 11am. Sunday is the nanny's day off, you see."

"My wife," chipped in husband number two, "gives over the whole of the weekend to pursuing what she calls 'me time'. She goes to retreats, yoga mini-breaks, a spa, a health farm, even art classes… all of which I pay for, of course. What do I get back in return? Nothing."

So today's concept of a wife "having it all", simply put, means never doing anything personally if she can pay someone else to do it for her. And if she can't find someone else, her husband must do it.

"To be frank," said another unfortunate husband, "I was conned. And I'm by no means the only one. There's a pattern of behaviour that these wives all adopt."

There are five tell-tale signs, apparently. First, she gives up work, ostensibly to care for the brood, only to have the children packed off to either boarding school or intensive (ie, lots of extra-curricular activities) private day schools.

Secondly, she suddenly wants to move somewhere more rural/suburban that suits her idea of family life, yet location-wise is horrendous for her exhausted, ever-commuting husband.

Thirdly, she demands wall-to-wall help, which nearly always includes an abused Filipina who works 12-14 hours a day, six days a week.

Fourthly, she refuses to fulfil in any way the traditional contract of the non-working spouse in terms of doing anything for her husband (such as cooking), while, fifthly, she expects her husband to fulfil the traditional but anachronistic male role in the household (such as paying all the bills).

Here is a typical day outlined by one husband of a toxic wife.

5.30am: Husband leaves for London. 7.45am: Filipina brings wife tea in bed. 8am: Nanny takes children to school. 8.30am: Breakfast, suduko and the papers. 9.30am-4pm: God knows; possibly gym, spa, shopping, boozy lunch with friends, nap or massage. 4pm: Nanny collects children from school. 5.30pm: Nanny gives children tea and goes home. 7pm: Filipina gives children bath. 7.30pm: Wife disappears off to book group. 9pm: Husband returns and roots around for an M&S ready-meal. 10.30pm: Wife returns. Bed. 10.35pm: Sex? In your dreams.

If the above timetable seems hideously parasitic, it is, and so is the woman behind it. The other day I nervously accepted an invitation for lunch with an old school friend. I felt daunted because, several years ago, she married a rich banker and I'd been dumped from her circle.

"Sorry I'm late," I said on arriving at her mansion. "Got stuck in traffic so bad it gave me road rage."

"Road rage?" replied Olivia, her eyes swivelling down to my shoes and up to my hair in a split, judgmental second. "Well, I'm suffering from maid rage. I mean, come and look…"

She led me into her kitchen, three times the size of my flat, and slid open a drawer. "How shoddy is that?" She was holding up a fork.

"What's wrong with it?" I asked, peering at it politely.

"Just look! It has a disgusting piece of encrusted mashed potato on it. I mean, it's so shoddy! She can't even unload a dishwasher. I'm really going to have to sack her. And guess what else I discovered this morning? When I opened the towel cupboard after my bath, I noticed that she'd stacked the pink towels amongst the white ones. Can you believe it?"

What made this conversation so scary was the fact that the terrified Filipina was in the room with us, hunched over a table slicing up bits of duck and foie gras for our lunch. "Juanita!" snapped Olivia. "This is your last chance. Do you understand me? You'll be back in Manila within the week… I couldn't possibly recommend you to anyone. Understand?"

"Yes Madam," she sniffed with a tremulous sob.

"And stop dripping your revolting bodily fluids over our lunch. Throw that away and start again. "

Horrified by her manner and the distressing scene, I asked her for a tour of her home. She had just moved into one of those massive houses in Chelsea Square. Rich folk tolerate people like me (ie, broke ones) only because we make them feel better about themselves.

"Would love to, darling," she drawled, "but first how about a drinkie-poo? Juanita! Open the champagne chilling in the wine fridge and bring it upstairs to the south drawing-room."

"Yes Madam," replied the poor slave.

"I won't have any, thanks," I said. "I'm driving and have to pick my children up from school."

"You mean you don't have a nanny to do it?" Olivia's eyes glared with horror. "I have the most delightful Norland one. Although the uniform is brown and ghastly, they are so well trained. She's downstairs in the basement doing my ironing at the moment…"

This was now utterly surreal. I had no idea that real people lived like this. Yet, minute by agonising minute, it got worse. I tried a bit of light humour.

"Well, let's hope she's not weeping tears on to your party dresses, eh?"

"What?" snapped Olivia.

"Well, then you'd ask her to redo the whole lot again, wouldn't you?"

"Possibly," she replied. "But a little moisture is no bad thing when ironing out the creases…"

Was she exhibiting a dry wit? I didn't know. In her pre-toxic wife days, she was amusing and droll. Now we were different beings living in parallel universes. She showed me lavish room after lavish room, and at one point I heard some strange shuffling coming from one of her closets. Maybe her life is not so perfect after all, I thought; maybe she has rats.

As we sat down to lunch in the "informal" dining-room adjacent to the kitchen in an open-plan L-shape, I noticed that Juanita was eating a rather more humble repast slightly around the corner; although I couldn't see all of her, I could detect an elbow jutting out from time to time.

"She won't be joining us then?"

"Are you mad?" cried Olivia. "Why would I want to even see my servants?"

As if on cue, a wizened little Filipino man appeared, bowing and scraping. "Madam, I have finished all the shoes. I will go now, thank you madam." He hurried out.

"See you on Thursday as normal, Pedro," she replied, barely glancing at him.

"Where did he spring from?" I asked. After all, I'd just endured an exhaustive survey of her house, and there had been no sign of Pedro.

"Oh, he's our shoe polisher. He comes twice a week. He works in a cupboard – probably why you didn't notice him." No rats after all.

Here was an educated woman who spent her days rotting her brain with alcohol, and bossing an army of staff.

"Olivia," I said, "don't you miss your old job, your financial independence? Isn't all this a bit decadent?"

"Forget the work ethic," she laughed. "Why on earth would I want to struggle, feel tired and look old before my time?"

I left, more agitated than when I arrived. Forget road rage; I was suffering from toxic-wife rage. Driving to collect my children, the outside world felt like a haven of normality and peace. How I pitied these rich and successful men who had naively hoped for a domestic goddess, only to end up with a diva.

Wake up, toxic wives, the game is over. Your milch cows have seen the light of day. You are toxic, you are trouble and you are about to become extinct.

[Aquinasfan]

Sad. But he made his bed.

[Froufrou]

Good to know, thank you. Sounds as fair as I would expect from our British friends. Cute name, snugs!

[Froufrou]

"I think you and others here are being very unfair to working mothers most I know do so to actually make ends meet."

Having been a working mom, I do apologize. I would never think of trashing my own. Technically, I'm still a working mom, except my little one has flown the coop.

[AdamSelene235]

Strong argument for an air tight prenup.

No such thing. Prenups are routinely set aside by a judge for being "inequitable".

[MistrX]

Hopefully, I will be a grandpa!
Thanks

[MistrX]

Grand!

[derllak]

Yeah, grampa is a step up from being a dad. You can always just give the kids back when they get to be a handful, hehehe!
I have no doubt you and wife will be great grandparents. ;)
Bless you both!

[MistrX]

Thank you

[GeorgefromGeorgia]

I had one bad marriage (my first) and have one great marriage (still enjoying). The first was hell the second is heaven. Marriage involves compromise, but find someone that enjoys your company and wants to make you happy, not some selfish bit-- that wants for me, me , me. Single life is overrated, and kids are great. The older you get, the more a great marriage beats the heck out of single life.

[Bookwoman]

he would be taking care of the baby on the weekends so his wife could have 'her time'.

When I was a young stay-at-home mom with an infant, our son did not sleep for more than short periods at a time. Not only did I not have any "my time", I did not get any sleep! Almost as soon as I dropped off, you guessed it, the baby woke up screaming! This went on for months. As soon as my husband got home from work he wanted to do his own thing and I got no relief. I figured it was my job anyway since I was "stay at home mom" and we couldn't afford outside help. My family was not in the area and I didn't have many friends since we had just moved there. Finally, I got deathly ill from exhaustion and out-of-control respiratory infections because my immune system was so compromised. It took a long time to get back on my feet - and I still got no help. Now if a person has a Nanny or other household help, I think they don't need "their time" on the weekend. But in cases like mine, I really needed time - just to get some sleep! There are cases too where the men want it all their way and the women no say. I chose to stay because I knew my kids would NEVER see their father if I divorced him. They are grown up now and neither of them wants anything much to do with him.

[silver charm]

this article is funny (if somewhat vicious) on the surface but troubling underneath. Basically a man acquires a sparkling little jewel (the trophy wife) to complete is collection of perfect accessories and make a statement he has arrived. But unlike the Impressionist painting or the Aston Martin car, the wife has a personality and opinions etc of her own. Required to basically be displayed and cause the owner (her husband) to be envied by his peers.
Low and behold, things somehow go horribly wrong.........

I was a bartender in the lounge of a pretty nice restaurt many many years ago. The regulars would often muse about how awful women were and how all the good ones were taken, no good ones ever existed etc. I asked them from time to time how they would know a "good woman" from a "bad one". If there were 20 women in a room, 2-3 of them "good ones", how would the recognize the good ones? Ofcourse they all agreed that the loud mouth sumo wrestling termagant type was not what the wanted, but basically, to a man, the description of a "good woman" was; Blond, young 18 to 25 years old, petite, very slim, big boobs, blue eyes and long legs.

Basicaly, they were all looking for Barbie. Barbie is made out of plastic. Vapid, "I'm pretty because everybody says I am" 22 year olds that are fortunate enough to have the above attributes foremost on their resumes are unlikely to mature into the kind of idealized woman these men want and expect.

[doberville]

There are none so snobbish as those who were NOT "to the
manor born".

[NYpeanut]

wow, scary loser alert needed there.

[Yaelle]

When she protested Dr. Laura simply stated "Of course you are, smart women do not date married men."

And under her breath she added, off mike, "Except me."

Her opinions are right on here but let's face it; she DID go for her married coworker and DID pull him away from his wife and three kids, but I am sure there must have been a Good Reason.

[Yaelle]

I could have written a lot of your post. My mother was a high-flier in her career as well. I was on my own after school and I regret the trouble I got into (nothing that anyone knew about but, you know, blonde teen in a sportscar type of trouble). She just WASN'T THERE.

So life finds me AT HOME with my little ones, homeschooling them too. You cannot have it all. I had it, one at a time (career, then mothering). That's how it works best.

[Kimmers]

I was not aware of that so using google as my friend it appears that she has a rather interesting history.

I do know that people can change in their behavior and their thinking.

I do agree with her, smart women do not date married men and married men do not date other women.

[xarmydog]

Good on you.You seem very mature and a parent with a good set of priorities.Rare in cases being mentioned.

[girlangler]

Wow, can't believe this thread is still going.

There are successful May/December relationships. But,in this article I think they are describing women who married (often married) men for a free ride. Those kind probably are doomed in most cases.

I do love these grandkids, since my husband don't fish I have a whole new generation of fishing partners. They also know how to con lots of fishing equipment out of me!!!!!

[DugwayDuke]

I'm sorry to hear that you had such a difficult time. This was not the issue with my friend. His wife was about six months pregnant when he made his announcement.

As I remember his exact words were that he and his wife had decided that she would not be receiving significant intellectual challenges during the week while spending time with the baby. Therefore they had decided that in order for her to get these intellectual challenges he would stay home with the baby on the weekend so she could spend time doing other things like shopping at the mall with her friends. IOW, this had nothing to do with a lack of sleep or any of the other things you mentioned. It sounds much more consistent with the description of these women in this article.

[Dr.Deth]

I rarely jest, and don't call me Shirley ;)