I spent Easter at my new in-laws' house. It's always a little awkward to be there for any length of time, but it seems to have reached fever pitch discomfort levels of late.

My partner's father has recently retired. He had a fairly demanding career and was out of the house a lot. My partner's mother had almost complete control of the house, and he generally stayed out of her way. I used to think that this was a fairly unevolved way to coexist. Now they're together all the time, and I've changed my perspective a bit.

I think they hate each other. They spent the entire long weekend in an upper-middle-class level domestic dispute. Everything was an argument. Should we feed the baby now, or should he eat while we're eating? Was it his idea to go on the Caribbean cruise, or hers? Was the photo taken in Bermuda or Barbados? Should we take the recycling down out now, or in half an hour?

By her account, he had numerous affairs over the years and they almost got divorced. By everyone else's account, this is bullshit. In households like this one, though, when someone says something that is not only bullshit but extremely offensive, you don't call them on it. You talk about how the stuffing tastes good with extra rosemary instead.

In writing for First Wives World, I've encountered many people who think that divorce is a tragedy. I'm starting to think that in some cases, it's a brilliant innovation. If they'd divorced 20 years ago, there's a slim chance they could be happy now. In their case, that slim chance of happiness seems a hell of a lot bigger than the chance they have at it now.

One of my favorite parts of being divorced is not having in-laws anymore. The freedom from all that extra censure and pressure cannot be overstated.

One of my least favorite parts of being part of a couple again is that you get yourself a brand spanking new set of in-laws, and they're often worse than the last.

The thing about in-laws is that they never like you. You're never good enough. You're never a good enough wife, you're never a good enough mother, you're never a good enough housekeeper. Nothing you do will ever meet the expectations placed upon you because they put those expectations in place years before either you or your partner were even born.

Some in-laws are obvious in their dislike of you. While this makes for some confrontational situations, nobody looks at you like you're crazy when you say your in-laws don't like you. Other in-laws — like, say, mine — are not obvious in their dislike. They are passive aggressive and make snarky comments with a big smile on their face, while asking you if you'd like more Merlot.

I wonder sometimes if it's possible to divorce the family without divorcing the man. And while wondering that, I wonder if divorcing the family could lower the divorce rate by an astronomical percent. Worth thinking about.

When I was married, neither my husband nor I could make any real money at our jobs. We had to have a two-income household because our two crappy incomes were only really the equivalent of one real one.

Eventually, I got my skills to the point where I could run a fairly lucrative business from home. I now make more money from the comfort of my couch than my partner can make working outside the home.

We've decided to make him the stay-at-home parent and me the working one. It works for us — nobody has to leave the house, and somebody is always around for our toddler.

Good, right?

Apparently not. It seems like we are now finding ourselves the objects of reverse sexism. It seems like all of the feminists — the ones who talk about equality and women's rights and, uh, equality — are looking at me like I'm out of my mind.

"But if you both worked you could make more money!"

"But what does he do all day?"

"It must be so hard working from home and taking care of the house work and the baby all by yourself."

Did I get divorced again and not realize it? Am I single? Have become a martyred slave? Why is it that as I finally get empowered, people start thinking the opposite?

Maybe it's jealousy. Maybe so many of my friends have divorced total assholes and they don't realize that there are responsible and contributing men in the world. Maybe they just don't understand that other people aren't as upset all the time as they are.

Maybe I need to find some girlfriends who aren't so damn bitter.

I wonder how it would work, having separate homes. I mean, I can certainly think of the good things. I could shave my legs or bleach my mustache or awkwardly try to wax my bikini line without broadcasting it to my partner. I could buy the floral couch from Ikea. I could finally write that trashy romance novel without someone peering over my shoulder saying, “Whatcha doing?” But what about the practical aspects? Would we give the baby identical bedrooms, or would he sleep at my house all the time? We just bought a very large and expensive television. Who would get it? If I buy that floral couch and he buys the ridiculous black leather one, what do we do when this situation inevitably ends? I have a feeling they won’t work well in the same room. What about meals? Dates? Discipline? I know I happen to be insanely permissive with the baby which drives my partner batty. Would it be difficult for Jack to reconcile different rules in different households? Or would it be just the same as when Michael was little and my husband and I shared custody? My partner says he likes this idea, but he wonders if this is the first step people take when they’re ready to separate. I can understand his point, but I think it might really be the first step people take to avoid separating. Like a pre-emptive strike against divorce.

My mother-in-law came to our wedding in nursing scrubs. My father-in-law left his false teeth at home. My father drank three whiskey sours in a row — a bad sign, considering I haven't seen him drink anything stronger than decaffeinated coffee before or since. I should have known it was a bad idea.

I think I did know it was a bad idea. People often use the phrase "young and in love" to excuse bad decisions made by those under the age of thirty. For me, it was more like "young and fresh out of alternatives."

I first considered divorce three days after our wedding, when I came home from work to a few dirty dishes. I suggested my unemployed husband might want to clean up after himself. He looked at me, clearly confused: "But you're my wife. You do it."

Sadly, I'm not joking.

I'll mention here that at the time, we'd been together for three years, and this was the first I'd heard of that kind of "wifely duties." Obviously, since I was visibly pregnant, I had the other brand of wifely duties well under control.

It's now almost a decade later and we're still not divorced.