My Man is First

I got up tonight because of this quote a friend had posted on her Facebook page.

While reading it, I actually was lying in bed, feeling the heat of the person next to me. I saw him in his most peaceful state; innocent and vulnerable, and snoring so fucking loud I thought about smothering him with my pillow. Let’s face it, sometimes happiness is just as simple as waking in the morning and realizing you did not commit a homicide overnight. Go Me!

So, since I knew I wouldn’t be falling into my own peaceful, innocent, vulnerable state any time soon, I decided to get up and read some blogs. That’s where I came across a humorous and sweet post by Brick house Chick called Serve Your Man First.

Go ahead and give it a quick read. I’ll wait.

This post got to me. Mostly because it reminded me of…me. Well, me and my husband.

Steven and I grew up quite differently. Not that one was better than the other, just different. I was brought up with the same lecture a lot of you 30-something girls were told. YOU CAN DO ANYTHING! It was beat into our heads, right? And then there was the second part, that wasn’t so much said as just insinuated. YOU CAN DO ANYTHING, BUT…be a housewife, or just a mom, or a simple secretary.

Now, this isn’t a post about feminism or life choices. This was just how it seemed to be. And I jumped all over it. Back in those days, I held very strong opinions about things I knew very little about. (That’s probably still true, but never mind that now.) I did…still do…believe in women’s rights. I believed…still do…that we’re equal. And I knew in my heart,there were certain things I would never ever adhere to. Serving a man, in any way, was one of them.

So…maybe ‘never ever’ are strong words…especially when spoken by a 16-year-old.

Steven and I hadn’t been dating very long when he took me to a family cook-out. He introduced me to the women in the kitchen and then disappeared outside with the men. I had no complaints about helping to prepare the meal. I liked getting to know the other women in the family in this manner. But then when everything was prepared, his mother opened up the door and yelled, “You men get on in here and eat!”

They bustled inside and piled food on their plates. The food I had so generously slaved over for the last hour or so! And while they took all the cushioned seats around the table, we women-folk poured their drinks and got their silverware and basically waited on them hand and foot!

I was appalled, but polite enough to go along with it and keep my comments to myself! Comments like, “Now I know my ’60’s sisters did not burn their bras for this shit. Let that fool pour his own damn lemonade!”

And, I felt like I’d been thrown for a loop. All the ladies I had met that day seemed like strong, smart women. Why were they allowing themselves to be treated like this?

My face must have given something away because my future-mother-in-law smiled at me and said, “In this family, the men always eat first. That’s just how it is.” I don’t remember if I said anything to her after that, but I do remember telling Steven, in private of course, “Yeah, don’t get used to that!”

It’s funny thinking about it now because now I get it. We’ve been married almost 11 years, and during that time, I have enjoyed getting my man his plate (most the time). I have never done it because it’s my duty. I do it because I want to.  I get that, as Brick house Chick says, it’s about abundance of love. I do it cause I can and because it’s a very small way of showing him that I love him. And he gets that.

8 or 9 years ago, my son was a screaming baby who kept me up all night every night and all day every day. I was exhausted and frustrated and it was almost dinner time. I browned some meat, stirred in some Manwich, put it on a bun and put it in front of my husband. While he ate, he told me about his day at work and then suddenly stopped. He closed his eyes for a minute and said, “Damn, this taste so good! Thank you so much, babe. This is perfect!”

He thanked me for Sloppy Joes. Sloppy Joes! And to this day, it’s still one of my favorite things he’s ever said to me. Cause he got it.

And that’s why I’m going back to bed with that amazing man. I’m going to roll him onto his side so he stops snoring, and I might even kiss him on the cheek.  Abundance of love!

Hope you all got some of that. Thanks for reading!