The Woman Who Doesn't Know her Name

She married Benny when she was 23. He was beyond attentive to her, dressed her in the finest fashion, gave her hair advice, and often felt more like her best friend than her lover. She had her slew of daddy wounds and there had been significant gaps in her mother’s mothering skills, so she was left with so many holes in her soul that it resembled swiss cheese. The problem is, she couldn’t see it, nor could anyone else, for that matter. Her husband, Benny, slowly filled in the holes (superficially, of course). She fell in love easily with the larger than life personality, undeniably handsome face, and quickly adapted to the version of her that he created. With a soul so full of holes, it was easy to become whatever someone wanted her to become. She mistook his attentiveness to her for love. She had never experienced true love, or attention for that matter, so his devotion to her appearance and interest in her felt like just about the most loving thing she had ever experienced.

Four kids later, the house in Orange County with the white picket fence, the blonde, the boobs, the lips, and the white Range Rover with black rims and windows tinted to match, she had everything she had ever wanted, including the envy of every woman on the block.

Her husband was also the envy of every woman and (unbeknownst to her) every man, for that matter. He had the social skills of the most savvy, intuitive woman, but the chivalry and masculinity that every woman secretly longed for (even in 2025). He carried within himself femininity and masculinity, drawing the envious eyes of every woman around him, who wanted to be both his best friend and flirt with him, all at the same time. The men on the block were also drawn to him, because he embodied masculinity so well.

With her soul holes patched for the moment, Benny also appeared to thrive. He designed furniture for the most upscale interior design business in Southern California and furnished the homes of celebrities such as Meghan Markle and Oprah herself. You would never know it by meeting him, though. He was down to earth and relatable, playing soccer with the kids at the park and mowing the lawn himself, in spite of the gardeners pulling up to mow the neighbor’s lawns. It kept him in touch with the earth, he said, and continued mowing. No one quite understood how he had time for all of this, but somehow he managed it all, all with muscles bulging.

Her email addresses were all Bennyswife@ whatever search engine she had chosen for the moment. Her license plate was BENSWIFE, and she often forgot her own name in exchange for her identity as Benny’s wife. In fact, she had learned to become quiet at parties, and wait for Benny to make the introductions to people he seemed to know so well. He would say to so and so, “This is my wife,” adding to her hidden, internal identity crisis himself by leaving her name out of the introductions.

It was one sunny SoCal day that she was at home doing laundry in her orange lululemon leggings, boobs bursting out of a matching orange sports bra, that she pulled a wad of paper out of Benny’s pants before tossing them into the washing machine. She had a maid, but unfortunately, the maid had called in sick this week, so alas, the laundry had fallen on her sculpted shoulders.

The paper said, “Call me,” and then there was a heart and the name Chris. Her stomach dropped. She scanned her mind for any wives named Christine or Christina on the kids’ soccer teams. She couldn’t think of anyone with that name. She mentally went through the class roster for each one of her four adorable children. No Christines or Christinas. She was stumped and bewildered. Most of all, she was hurt. An affair had never crossed her mind, because Benny was so attentive to her. He had dressed her in the finest fashion, given her the house and family she had always wanted, and most of all, made her the envy of every woman on the block. He was happy, thriving in his career, surrounded by friends and admirers, what more could she want?

She decided to chalk the wad of paper up to chance or coincidence, rather than rock the boat of happiness, and lived another year of bliss with Benny.

It was exactly a year later that she found another wad of paper in his jacket pocket. They were at a late soccer game and she was cold in her spandex shorts and crop top, so Benny ran to the car to rummage for a jacket for her to wear.

“Here, put mine on. I couldn’t find one of yours,” he lovingly helped her ease into the cozy jacket that smelled of his expensive cologne. Her nervous system calmed at the familiar scent and warmth that enveloped her with the knowledge that she was wrapped in his jacket. She noticed a few of the wives around her glance at Benny and sigh. Her heart swelled with pride and gratitude for her husband.

As they watched the remainder of their youngest son’s soccer game, comfy on their chairs, Yeti mugs of matcha in their hands, surrounded by friends, she felt that familiar wad of paper inside the jacket pocket. She pulled it out, and her nervous system went into overdrive, as she remembered the mysterious note from “Chris” last year that she had buried somewhere in her holey soul. She unfolded the paper, as he had his head turned, talking to a friend about the newest couch in his furniture line, and silently read the note.

“I had fun last night,” it read, “call me tomorrow.” Again, the heart, and the name Christoph. Her heart sank this time, as he turned his head and his face blanched. Their eyes met.

“Who’s Christoph?” She asked, tears threatening to smear her mascara.

“He’s a friend,” Benny whispered, “and let’s just talk about this later.”

Her voice rose an octave. “A friend?! I know all of your friends, and I don’t know anyone named Christoph.” The tears ran down her face, the mascara streaking in parallel lines down her cheekbones.

“Please,” he implored, his voice taking on a tone she had never heard, “let’s save this conversation for when we are home tonight.”

She shrank into herself, wiped her eyes, and put a smile on her face. After all, she didn’t want any of their friends to think she was anything other than happy.

Their son lost the game, and she quickly shifted her attention from the mysterious note to comforting her son. “It’s ok, you’ll still get a trophy at the end of the season! Everyone is a winner.” Long gone were the days when kids had to suffer any kind of disappointment. They didn’t even officially keep score, although the kids knew exactly what the score was.

They took the family to their favorite vegan ice cream shop and celebrated with a round of ice creams for everyone.

Later that night, when the kids were in bed and the house was quiet, she approached Benny.

“So, who is Christoph? Are Chris and Christoph the same person?”

The shock registered on his face for a moment, before he gained control over his facial features and restored them to order.

“Haven’t you ever sensed it? The way we are more friends than lovers? The way other men look at me? The way I look at them?”

“No. No I haven’t. Every woman on the block is envious of how you love me. You do love me, don’t you?” Her voice was desperate, searching for approval.

“I admire you, your femininity. But I love men.”

Shocked didn’t even describe the response of her holey soul, as all of the temporary, faulty patches that had been placed there fell in an instant, leaving her confused and alone.

Had she married a gay man?

“How long, Benny? How long has this been going on?”

Tears filled Benny’s eyes. He had hoped she would never find out. The truth was, he had always wanted a family, always wanted to be admired, always wanted the respect of a woman, as well as the love of a man. He thought that he could have both.

“What does it matter?” He had learned through business classes to answer a question with a question, deflecting the disturbing answer that he didn’t want to give her. This had been going on for the entirety of their marriage.

She fell back on the most stable thing in her life. Her love for Benny. It was larger than life itself. The truth was, she loved him more than she loved herself. The even more truthful truth is that she didn’t even know herself. She had become a feminine reflection of him, filled with as much deception and illusion as he was. How could you be married to an illusion and not become one yourself?

She burrowed deep into her tattered soul that night, slept fitfully, and woke the next morning to another sunny SoCal day. The weather was always sunny, why should she ever let sadness creep in?

She stuffed her sorrow deep within, stuffed her disappointment deep within, stuffed the betrayal deep within. She was better at disconnecting herself from her soul than facing the truth. In fact, she didn’t even know how to find the truth. Her parents had left such gaping holes within her that she had never had the privilege of meeting her whole self.

She put on her mascara, dressed her fit body in a brand new workout outfit that Benny had bought her, and walked into the kitchen to make breakfast for her family. She smiled at Benny as if the notes had never appeared, made his lunch, kissed his pretty lips, and sent everyone off to school, business as usual.