My husband is a king of the couch, while our neighbor is a true hero. Why does life seem so unfair?
I’m just twenty-eight, and my husband is thirty-seven. We’re a young family with two wonderful children. Even though we live in the 21st century, it sometimes feels like we’ve slipped back into some old-fashioned era. My John is quite set in his ways: the man should earn the money, and the woman should make the meals and take out the trash. Isn’t that absurd?
When we got married, I hoped we’d be partners in everything—life, home, and childcare. I didn’t expect anyone to label tasks as “men’s work” or say, “you can manage on your own.” Unfortunately, my John thinks it’s beneath him to pick up a cloth or even start the washing machine. If I press him enough, he might dust once a month. But making breakfast for the kids? That’s lost on him, as if the pan might bite him.
In contrast, I can’t help but admire a person who truly impresses me—our neighbor. Just an ordinary guy living in the same building, his name is Luke.
Luke and Emma are a young couple, around thirty, living one floor up. Emma is a savvy, confident woman. She works in a big international firm, holds a high position, and drives a luxurious car. She’s always elegant and seems to have everything under control.
Luke is currently between jobs. And what does he do? He’s a fantastic dad and husband! When their baby was born, he didn’t run off to the bar or hide behind the TV. He took paternity leave! Yes, really.
You wouldn’t believe how well he manages! He takes morning strolls with the pram, makes porridge, washes the baby clothes, tidies up, and prepares lunch. He’s like a superhero in an apron. And their little one beams with joy. Luke doesn’t long for anything else—he lives for his family.
When Emma comes home, she always greets him with a smile. Seeing them makes me feel a pang of envy. They look like something out of a poster for a happy marriage: loving, respectful, and solving everything together—from nappies to holiday plans.
When I saw him mopping the floor one day while humming to the baby in the crib, it tugged at my heart. Not because my husband is a bad person, but because he doesn’t want to be like that. He believes looking after the house isn’t manly.
I sometimes hint to John: “Look how Luke takes his son out” or “see how he prepares dinner.” He just snorts and says, “Well, if he’s that bored” or “Emma will leave him soon, women get tired of pushovers.” And it makes me want to scream.
It’s both funny and sad: is caring a weakness? Is love only shown by paying bills?
You know, I don’t expect John to cook gourmet soups or embroider cushions. I just wish he’d say, “I’ll handle it, take a break,” or surprise me with breakfast in bed once a week, or simply pick up the little one and say, “Go have a nap.” But no. He sees it as a woman’s role, while he’s the provider.
So when I see Luke, I feel like applauding—not because he’s better than my husband, but because he’s different. Because he knows how to show love through actions, not just words. Because he isn’t afraid to be “unconventional,” to be the person his upbringing might not have encouraged. He had the courage to be a genuinely good person.
Maybe one day John will understand that love isn’t just about earning money. That a woman’s happiness isn’t just in flowers on March 8th, but in daily attention. Meanwhile, I just hope my kids will have a father like Luke is to his son.
True masculinity isn’t about physical strength but the strength of the heart. It’s a lesson, unfortunately, not everyone was taught.
