What’s Her Name’s Husband

You can just call me Mr. Dyer. It’s fine by me.

Today I had to vis­it my den­tist today for one of those bi-annu­al clean­ings1. The hygenist was new, but one of the first things she said asked was “So, you’re Angela Dyer’s hus­band?” I said yes, which is my usu­al answer to that ques­tion. She informed me that every sin­gle page and chart in my file stat­ed that fact: Angela Dyer’s hus­band.

This is the sort of thing that used to both­er me. That is, just to be only known via ref­er­ence as opposed to as an indi­vid­ual. You can ask my old room­mate, Jason J., that I did­n’t take well to con­stant­ly be ref­ered to as Jason’ room­mate. I often, and not usu­al­ly nice­ly, remind­ed peo­ple that I had a name too, and if you could remem­ber Jason’s name, mine should­n’t be too much of a stretch. How­ev­er, I guess part­ly I’ve mel­lowed since then and also just resigned myself to the fact that it’s part of how peo­ple relate.

I guess back then, it just made me feel a lit­tle bit out of loop to con­stant­ly be ref­ered to by rela­tion­ship rather than name. Now, I rou­tine­ly intro­duce myself to folks as Ange­la’s hus­band. A large num­ber of them just call me Jason Dyer. You quick­ly loose your pride when that hap­pens reg­u­lar­ly.

  1. It’s not lost on me that I am for­tu­nate enough to have a job that includes ben­e­fits such as med­ical insur­ance, includ­ing den­tal. []