Happy-House-Husband

Finally, after months of waiting, we have a new job.
In actual fact, my wife has been well employed for the past few years, it was just myself who was starting to wonder if there really was any point in furthering myself. You must admit that when things get cushy and comfortable, when life is at the least relatively stable, there is no real reason to uproot and search for something better.
Having been an intern at Michaelhouse for the last five years, there have been no real pressures, other than those of a few exams and meeting the deadlines for the ten sports comments due at the end of each quarter. I have been able to play the happy-house-husband for the past year and have actually enjoyed it to a certain extent…getting home early enough to do a really bad impression of the late great Floyd and surprise my good wife with a severely tanned piece of toast with some remnant of… yes, well - supper.

It is a phenomenally rewarding and satisfying feeling that follows when you see that look on your wife’s face as she arrives home after a long day and there are flowers and supper waiting.  It does, however, absolutely, completely, totally, utterly and utterly (another one for effect) and utterly nothing for the manliness that now dribbles weakly through my veins. I want to be the provider and the bread winner, not the bread burner. I want to go out and earn the money, kill the lions and provide the family with fresh meat every day… sorry, that cave-man scene tends to be a powerful attractant of any thoughts masculine!   But this is what every man was wired to do. Any man, however liberal he claims to be, will eventually break down into that testosterone driven provider with his fists clenched, the correct buttons just need to be pressed.

The old adage: God saw it fit to bless men with two heads…but only enough blood to run one at a time, rings true in every man, sometimes it’s just hiding.

I am definitely one of those men…I need to provide, and with me just being a student teacher, I was unable to earn the cash that would satisfy, not my wife, but me. I needed to have that cash to give. This lack of man-money led to me feeling like a bit of a collared monkey – an extension to my wife’s handbag.

Well, the degree is now nearly gotten and the job secured and yes, before you ask it, I still earn less than my wife. But I feel just a little more manly now.