Married in Spirit, Taxed in Reality

Words Matter, Especially the Ones We Borrow Too Soon

There. I said it. It’s become the norm to blur the lines between truth and desire.

Now, don’t go rolling your eyes at me. Just hear me out.

I had the privilege of helping an acquaintance with her taxes a couple of years ago. Let’s call her Victoria. Victoria had a “husband” and two kids. I’d known her for several several years. So why do I call her an acquaintance? Well, I didn’t know her on a personal level. She had served as the coordinator for a long-term project I was hired to complete, which is how we first connected. Over the years, I’d run into her at office parties and gatherings.

I remember one holiday party in particular when she asked me to take a look at her taxes. She knew I had a background in accounting. Come mid-February, she handed over her W-2s and various paperwork. I won’t go into the details of what prompted me to schedule a Zoom call with her, but let’s just say I had questions.

My first one:

“Why is your husband filing as Head of Household? You’re way better off filing jointly.”

Her response:

“Ron and I are married but not legally married.”

“I’m sorry, what does that mean? Did you guys get married abroad and not register it in the U.S.?”

“Well… we’ve never legally gotten married.”

“So he’s not your husband. He’s your civil partner. I’ll file your taxes the same way as last year, but I’ll take care of these deductions.”

I didn’t give it much thought beyond that. I was laser-focused on getting the numbers right. But I couldn’t help thinking about how much she was paying in taxes on her own. An unmarried person in the U.S. has to file as either Single or Head of Household. That’s the law.

We wrapped up the Zoom and agreed to meet for lunch that Saturday.

When Saturday rolled around, I brought her paperwork in a manila envelope. She ordered drinks for both of us. As she took a sip, she raised her glass and said:

“Ron is my husband. A marriage certificate is just a piece of paper.”

“Look, I only asked because I was confused by your filing status. I’ve known you for years, and you’ve always referred to Ron as your husband. That’s all. No one’s going to hear anything from me. It’s nobody’s business.”

She smiled.

“I always respect how you can compartmentalize things. That’s why I like working with you, Maureen.”

“Well, I love working with you too.” The waiter placed our hot dishes down. I was ready to dig into my Cobb salad.

“But you do understand it’s just a piece of paper.”

I don’t know why she needed to repeat that. Maybe she needed the affirmation. She continued:

“It really doesn’t matter. Society doesn’t need to be so strict about technicalities. What do you think? I’m sure you agree.”

Technicalities?

Ma’am, you’re sitting in front of me about to pay a buttload in taxes because you have to file as a single person. My point of view? She didn’t know me like that. We weren’t that close.

“Victoria, if it were just a piece of paper, you’d be filing your taxes differently. You’d be entitled to certain tax breaks. By law, you’re not eligible for spousal or survivor benefits. I hope to God Ron has a will, because without one explicitly naming you as a beneficiary, you have no automatic right to inherit his estate or receive life insurance benefits. What about medical decisions? The list goes on. Ron bought the apartment you and your kids live in before he even met you. If he were to drop dead tomorrow, are you and the kids in his will?”

I had to bring this up because I had my share of friends who were victims of misinformation and, sometimes, that river in Egypt.

“Well, I think he should add me. We’ve been together for 14 years. And this is New York.”

“Honey, what I’m telling you is New York law. You can look it up. You’re not his wife in the eyes of the state.”

“Well, we agreed on things years ago. We just have a different view of societal norms. Ron and I don’t believe in that stuff.”

“If you don’t believe in it, then why call him your husband publicly? You’re using language to bend reality. Words have meaning. Let me ask you this, and I’m not trying to be pedantic, but why are you asking everyone, including yourself, to pretend a dynamic exists that hasn’t been formalized?”

“You mean I’m playing make-believe?”

“Yes, you are. Because if you weren’t, you’d call him your partner. Calling him your husband is aspirational, misleading, and risky. It’s about how language gets used to legitimize relationships that might not be secure. To skip steps. To claim roles before they’ve been earned.”

“He has earned it. He’s a great father and a great husband.”

“Great partner.”

“Maureen, I—”

“This is like assigning job titles with no job offer. And I know for a fact that if this were business, you wouldn’t accept that.”

She didn’t take it well. I didn’t hear from her again until October. One day, out of the blue, she sent me pictures of a small courthouse wedding. I was genuinely happy for her. She deserved a legally binding partnership.

I did take a risk that day when I opened my mouth. I had nothing to lose.

As for me and Victoria, she’s probably reading this right now, shaking her head and wondering how we’re going to tackle our next project. She also gifted me black lipstick recently. I think we’ve graduated from acquaintances to friends. We’ll see how it goes.

Words matter, especially the ones we borrow too soon.

This journal entry is a personal reflection and not intended as legal or financial advice. Laws can vary by state and situation. Please consult a qualified attorney or tax professional for guidance specific to your circumstances.

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🗒️ **Additional Notes**
If you liked this journal entry, you may also enjoy:
👉 [Clarity on the Ground](https://maureenjosephwrites.com/clarity-grief-writing/)

📚 For reference:
[New York Courts on Legal Marriage](https://www.nycourts.gov/legacyPDFS/FORMS/matrimonial/DIYDivorceBooklet-English.pdf)