My husband is a couch king, while our neighbor is a true hero. Why is life so unfair?
I’m just twenty-eight. My husband is thirty-seven. We’re a young family with two wonderful kids. Despite living in the 21st century, it often feels like we’re stuck in a bygone era. My John has these old-school ideas: the man should earn money, and the woman should cook and take out the trash. Isn’t that absurd?
When we got married, I had hoped we’d be partners—in life, in household chores, and in raising children. I thought we wouldn’t label tasks as “men’s work” or “you can handle that on your own.” But, alas, my John thinks it’s beneath him to pick up a cleaning cloth or even turn on the washing machine. He’s willing to dust once a month if coerced. But if breakfast needs to be made for the kids—forget it. It’s as if the frying pan might bite him.
Against this backdrop, I can’t help but mention someone who truly impresses me—our neighbor. Yes, just an ordinary guy living next door. His name is Charlie.
Charlie and Lily are a young couple, around thirty, living upstairs. Lily is a businesswoman, confident and successful. She works for a large international company, holds a high position, and drives a luxurious car. Always elegant, assured, and on the go.
Charlie, on the other hand, is currently between jobs. And you know what he’s doing? He’s… an amazing father and husband! When their baby was born, he didn’t disappear into the pub or hide behind the TV. He took… paternity leave! Yes, he did.
You wouldn’t believe how well he manages! He strolls with the pram in the mornings, then makes porridge, washes the baby clothes, tidies up, and cooks lunch. He’s like a superhero in an apron. And their child—a picture of happiness. Charlie doesn’t dream of being anywhere else—he lives for his family.
Lily comes home from work with a smile to greet him. Watching them, I can’t help but feel a pang of envy. They seem like a picture-perfect couple: in love, respectful of each other, tackling everything together—from diapers to holiday plans.
Once, I saw him mopping the floor while singing to the baby in the cot, and my heart ached. Not because my husband is bad, but because he doesn’t want to be like that. He thinks a real man shouldn’t fuss about the house.
Sometimes, I hint to John, “Look how Charlie spends time with his son,” or “Notice how he cooks dinner.” But John just shrugs and says, “Let him, if he’s got nothing better to do.” Or, “Lily will soon leave him—women get tired of men who are under their thumb.” It makes me want to scream.
It’s both funny and sad: is caring really a weakness? Is love only measured by paying bills?
I don’t dream of John cooking gourmet soups or embroidering cushions. I just wish he’d sometimes say, “I’ll handle this, you take a break.” Or surprise me with breakfast in bed once a week. Or simply take the little one and say, “Go, have a nap.” But no. He believes that’s a woman’s duty, while he’s the breadwinner.
So, when I see Charlie, I feel like applauding. Not because he’s better than my husband. But because he’s different. Because he loves through actions, not just words. Because he’s brave enough to be “uncool,” defying what was expected of him as a child. Because he had the courage to simply be a good person.
Maybe one day John will realize that love isn’t just about earning money. That a woman’s happiness isn’t just flowers on Valentine’s Day, but attention every day. Until then, I simply pray that my children have a father like Charlie is to his son.
True masculinity isn’t about the strength of one’s arms, but the strength of one’s heart. Unfortunately, not everyone was taught this.
