The life of a pilot’s wife

Our marriage is like being in a long-distance relationship

What’s it like to be married to a pilot?

It’s a lot like waking up on a warm, spring day and pulling the curtains back from the bay window to find animal entrails on your front lawn. And you’re a vegetarian. And he’s not home.

Or, maybe the furnace goes out in the winter, and the bathwater keeps going cold because the floor is so cold. Is your husband home to help you troubleshoot? I hardly think so.

It’s like finding a leaky pipe. Twice. Is your husband there to help you fix it? Please. Or, going to your uncle’s funeral, and then your grandma’s funeral. Is your husband there in his best black suit? Don’t kid yourself. He’s in his best black suit, 30,000 feet up, and the suit has epaulettes on it.

It’s like going to his family’s functions without him. Or spending birthdays without him. Or having a group video chat with your family and you’re the only couple on separate screens.

Have I made my point? Being married to a pilot is a lot like being in a longdistance relationship half the time, except that the other half of the time, it’s like having a house husband.

It was reported a few years ago that “pilot” was the most right-swiped male profession on Tinder, but clearly these fly boy fanatics know nothing of the lifestyle they’re chasing. Sure, the uniform looks undeniably sharp, and if you’re a sapiosexual like me, the appeal far exceeds the visual, but it’s a distinct life that a lot of partners aren’t prepared for, and many struggle with. There are support groups on

Facebook to prove it.

I’m asked a lot of questions by inquiring minds that are filled with preconceptions, so now, as I am home isolating 99 per cent of the time and have recently found entrails in my yard, it would seem there is no time like the present to address a few queries.

1: Are you alone a lot? Categorically, yes. My husband is out of the province, country or continent approximately half of the time, for days or weeks at a time.

2: Do you get to go with him?

No. I don’t get to stow away in the cockpit. I have flight benefits that allow me to sit in airports for hours waiting to catch flights on standby. It’s not a bad deal, if you ask me, but it’s not the “unlimited free jet-setting” that people imagine it to be. While I had a day job last year I decided to meet him in New York for the weekend. I cut it close and planned to “non-rev” home the day before my next shift. It took all day and a pricey Uber from Newark Liberty to LaGuardia to get home on the last flight of the night. It was stressful and tiring. 3: Do you fly for free?

Nobody flies with an airline for free. “Non-rev” refers to a non-revenue passenger, as in the airline doesn’t make a profit on your ticket, but these passengers still have to pay taxes and fees. Again, it’s a great deal compared to not having that deal at all, but it’s not free. And, of course, please refer back to Q2. Paying only the non-rev fees comes with a variable time cost and a massive anxiety tax.

4: Is it difficult being apart so much? Yes, of course. It’s very difficult being apart, but some people are naturally cut out for the lifestyle, and some aren’t. As a writer who works independently from home, I’m a prime candidate. I’ve been known to hide indoors writing while others are out enjoying a sunny, summer day on the lake. Being alone comes naturally to me, not because I’m antisocial, but because I need time alone to thrive as an introverted artist.

5: Don’t you worry about what he’s doing on the road?

Do I worry about him being kidnapped in Colombia? Sure, that’s a valid concern. I don’t worry about his faithfulness, if that’s what you mean (and that’s always what you mean). Do you worry about what your partner is doing when he or she goes to work? If the answer is yes, then there’s a problem to which job title is irrelevant.

6: Don’t planes just fly themselves these days?

Don’t ask me this question, ever.

Clearly these fly boy fanatics know nothing of the lifestyle they’re chasing