My Husband is not special
Ok, this title is probably a bit misleading because he is one of the best people I know but he is not special for being an adult, a father, a husband. He cooks. He cleans. He knits. Or maybe he crochets. He mends our clothes. He sews Girl Guides patches on B’s sash. He irons (he’s actually banned me from ironing because I’m horrible at it). He plays nail salon with our child. He braids her hair better than I do.
But there’s nothing special about this. Or there shouldn’t be. These are all normal things. And if a woman did these nobody would say anything.
My Husband is the smartest person I know. He has terrible emotional intelligence but his brain is like your own personal Wikipedia. Full of useless information and facts I was never able to retain. He has never babysat his child but he has been alone with her. He has never referred to being with her alone as babysitting. He loves me even though I write him copious notes when I go away for a few days to rest the panic in my mind.
There are hundreds of things that make this man special. He has this adorable secretive laugh that is usually reserved for idiotic things on the Internet. He vibrates with laughter and his eyes crinkle in his perfect way. He can fix a computer just by looking at it (he intimidates them). He never finished University and he never needed to, he got where he is on his own, that clever little thing. He loves me even though I have a million things wrong with me.
So, sure, he’s amazing at oral. He has not once complained that I can’t give him a blow job since my jaw became a thing (I think he secretly likes that his penis is now too big to fit in my mouth). He puts up with my utterly dim witted moments. But I don’t think he’s special and I don’t feel lucky because of these things.
I wake up every day proud to be his wife. Proud that he is the father to my daughter. But he’s not special for being nice, or helping out his family, for washing a dish front and back. I am lucky to have him for a multitude of reasons but him treating me nicely isn’t one.
Why is it that men are still treated as special for simply being adults? I do think he’s the best man alive but not for doing the absolute bare minimum.
I’m sure this is all related to deadbeat fathers and husbands but… aren’t we all past that? Haven’t we let go of the belief that we have to praise men so they‘ll stick around? Or am I a complete Grinch on this?