My husband is a complete couch potato, while our neighbour is the real hero. Why is life so unfair?
I’m only twenty-eight, and my husband is thirty-seven. We’re a young family blessed with two wonderful kids. Although we live in the 21st century, it often feels like we’ve time-travelled back to the Victorian era. My husband, Alex, sticks to old traditions: the man should earn money, while the woman is expected to cook and take out the rubbish. It’s ridiculous, isn’t it?
When we tied the knot, I hoped we’d be partners in life, home, and childcare. I never imagined we’d pigeonhole tasks into “men’s work” and “women’s work.” Unfortunately, Alex considers it beneath him to pick up a duster or even switch on the washing machine. He’ll wipe down surfaces once in a blue moon if I plead with him. But when it comes to making breakfast for the kids? Forget it. It’s as if the frying pan will bite him.
In contrast, I have to mention someone who truly amazes me: our neighbour, Chris. He’s your ordinary bloke living just upstairs.
Chris and Jenny are a young couple, around thirty. Jenny is a businesswoman, self-assured and confident. She works for a major international company in a high-level position and drives a posh car. Always elegant, assured, and on the move with her ventures.
Meanwhile, Chris is currently between jobs. And you know what he does? He’s the perfect husband and dad! When their baby was born, he didn’t dive into a man cave or hide behind the TV. He went on paternity leave!
He handles it all impeccably — morning strolls with the pram, cooking porridge, laundering baby clothes, tidying up, and preparing lunch. He’s like a superhero in a domestic apron. Their baby looks delighted. Chris doesn’t yearn to be anywhere else; he lives for his family.
When Jenny comes home from work, she always greets him with a smile. Watching them makes me feel a twinge of envy. They are like a picture-perfect couple: in love, respecting each other, and tackling everything together — from nappies to holiday plans.
One day, as I watched him mopping the floor, humming to the baby in the cot, my heart ached. Not because my husband is terrible, but because he doesn’t want to be like that. Alex believes real men shouldn’t bother with household chores.
Sometimes I hint to Alex: “See how Chris takes his son for a walk” or “Look at him cook dinner.” He just scoffs, “Let him, if he’s that bored,” or “Jenny will get tired of his subservience.” I feel like screaming.
It’s both amusing and sad: is caring a weakness? Is love only about paying the bills?
I don’t dream of Alex making gourmet soups or embroidering cushions. I just want him to occasionally say, “I’ve got this, take a break,” or surprise me with breakfast in bed once a week. Or just scoop up the youngest and say, “Go have a nap.” But no, he sees it all as women’s work because he’s the breadwinner.
So when I see Chris, I want to applaud—not because he’s better than my husband but because he’s different, because he knows how to love through actions, not just words. He’s not afraid to be “not the norm,” unlike the expectations placed on us as children. He’s brave enough to be a good person.
I hope Alex someday realises love isn’t solely about earning money. A woman’s happiness extends beyond flowers on Valentine’s Day; it’s about daily attention. Meanwhile, I pray our children have a father like Chris.
True masculinity isn’t about physical strength but the strength of the heart. And, unfortunately, not everyone was taught that.
