When my now-husband Chris and I first met, I was a poor grad student who waited tables to make ends meet. My rent was ridiculously cheap, and thank goodness, because I had negative dollars to my name.
I eventually got a full-time office job, but the salary was so bad I had to work at a coffee shop on weekends to pay my bills. While I was working my way up the ladder, Chris already had a successful career as a chef—and his salary reflected it. He wasn't rolling in it, but he was definitely making more money than me. He never made a big deal about it, he just chipped in a little more than me sometimes on things like rent and utilities.
Eventually, my career grew. I got promotions and new jobs and the salary boosts that came with it. My salary surpassed Chris's before we got married and continued to grow. His grew, too, but not at the same rate since chefs, unfortunately, make a fraction of what they deserve.
Now, between career advancements and side projects, I make significantly more than he does. For the most part, it's awesome. I've always wanted to make money for my family, and I love being able to make a decent impact on my family's finances. But there are definitely some drawbacks.
For one thing, I feel pressure to make a certain salary in order to maintain our family's status quo. If my career suddenly went to hell, we'd have serious financial issues. If Chris's did, we'd have to tighten our belts, but we'd still be okay. That doesn't mean his job is less important—it's just the reality of the situation.
For the most part, Chris could care less that I make more, and he's always been supportive of my career. But occasionally he'll say things like "my job is important, too" when we're discussing something like who has to take time off when our son is sick and has to stay home from daycare. It breaks my heart that he would even think he has to say that.
Chris is incredibly talented, and he absolutely deserves all of the success he's had. But I've caught myself feeling a little jealous that he's been able to take certain jobs that he's wanted for less money, while it just wouldn't make sense for me to do the same. And that's the thing: I know it wouldn't make sense, but sometimes being practical is kind of lame.
I don't doubt that if I suddenly demanded that he make more, Chris would work his butt off to find a career that would give him a big salary boost. But I'd never do that—he loves his job, and I couldn't ask him to make that sacrifice for me.
I'm not alone. I'd say about 35 to 40 percent of my female friends are in the same boat, which reflects the national average (according to Bureau of Labor Statistics data for 2012, 38 percent of wives earn more than their husbands). Like our husbands, we don’t really care that we make more. But sometimes…little gripes come out.
"I just once want to go out and spend a crap-load of money on something silly, like designer boots," one investment banker friend of mine said. "If my husband made the same salary, I could. But I can't. I live like I make less money to balance out his lower salary."
One friend confessed to me that she's dreamed about what kind of life she'd have if her husband made the same or more than she did. "I could be a stay-at-home mom—not that I want that, but it would be nice to at least have the option."
While the concept of wives making more than their husbands attracts some attention, this income imbalance is really nothing new for couples. Men have been making more than their wives for ages, and we're hypocrites if we suddenly feel like more of the money is ours because the roles have been reversed. That's not what a marriage is, and we would be livid if our husbands did that.
Psychiatrist Gail Saltz, M.D. says as a whole, men now are more comfortable than ever with having a high-earner wife. Still, some aren't—especially if his feelings of self-worth are tied into being the primary breadwinner. Since many men were raised to think that they need to financially provide for their family, they can feel a little disappointed that they're not able to contribute more to the bottom line.
She says it’s incredibly important to not lord it over your partner that you make more—that's just asking for serious trouble. But contributing to the family isn't just about money. "If you feel resentful you are earning the majority of the income, look at what your partner is contributing monetarily or otherwise," says Saltz. "If it's too one-sided, then discuss another division of labor."
The reality is, Chris does a ton of stuff that I can't be bothered to do. He takes care of all of our bills, car maintenance, and issues that pop up around the house without thinking twice. If it was left to me…we'd be in trouble. That alone is worth a ton of money.
I used to wonder sometimes what it would be like to be married to someone who made more than me. My life would be different—we'd have a bigger place to live, eat out more, and travel a ton. We'd probably still live in Brooklyn, which we left in order to actually be able to afford to buy a place and not spend an entire paycheck each month on daycare.
But that's not my reality. The thing is, I didn't marry for money. I knew what I was getting into when I married a chef, and I'd do it again in an instant. As long as we're comfortable enough to keep our son happy, fed, and in diapers while supporting my juicing habit, I'm good.
Chris set a great example for me years ago on how to treat your partner when you earn more money. I can only hope I'm doing it justice.
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