Humor · love · Marriage

My Man is First

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

barfWhile 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!


9 thoughts on “My Man is First

  1. Hi Rachel, Brickhouse here! I am so glad to see that my post resonated with you and the way you think about marriage and being there for your husband. We need not be ashamed to admit that we want to do things for our partners. My husband does for me more than I could ever do for him and it makes me happy to make him happy. If more couples tried this they may realize that it only strengthens their relationship, as long as it is not done out of obligation. Thanks for reading and referencing my post! 🙂

  2. If that’s the dynamic in your household, that’s great. Typically, these families are the ones where the man goes off to work each day, while the woman is the homemaker. There’s so much that needs focusing at home, it’s an important role. At extended family dinners, often, there’s not enough room for everyone to sit together so we have to do shifts. However, it’s usually mixed (not males/females) but whomever happens to be caring for the kids while the other eats.

    In the households that require both parents to go off to work and there is no one holding down the home front to grocery shop, prepare meals, do laundry, etc…We serve each other because we’re a team.

    Since we both have to work. It’s too much for one person to be serving another constantly. Since I have to help provide for our family, there are days he makes dinner and serves me while I’m sitting at the computer and vice versa. Or one of us is doing the laundry, while the other is cooking.

    There are times, I truly wish I didn’t have to help pay our bills and could focus on my home/meals. Today’s world where women are expected to put on their capes and do it all… and still be intimate in the bedroom- it’s easily exhausting. My hubby tries to help me because I’m helping him. And hopefully, at the end of the day, we have time for each other. 🙂

    We prefer to eat together when we can, but often times, I’m standing the entire time getting him and kids stuff. Not because I’m wanting or having to serve anyone…but I typically eat at the counter as I’m washing dishes because it’s all about multi-tasking and I need things done! Or having to run to practices. Eating on the go. Sometimes, I’m giving my daughter/husband something as they are running out the door 🙂

    Each family has it’s own dynamic. I can appreciate both worlds.

    1. I can, too. And I certainly didn’t mean that women who don’t make dinner for their families every night don’t love their men. Please let me know if there’s something in my post that takes it there. I was only saying that that’s what “I” enjoy doing. And he does more for me than just complimenting my sloppy joes. Like you and yours, my husband and I are a team. He’s very good at laundry and dishes and picking up tacos when I’m in a mood. When I’m busy balancing the budget or paying bills or running kid A to activity #2, he takes care of kid B and C so I don’t have to. It’s crazy some times, but it is the family dynamic…and it works great for us! 🙂 Thanks for commenting, Flops!

  3. What a wonderful take on life, Rachel. I’m glad that the Even-Steven comes out in your abundance of love. By the way, my dear wife Karen and I were lucky enough to visit Mrs. Brickhouse and Mr. B in their lovely home this past June, and that abundance of love was very clear to us. We knew because we live with it here in the Little Bitty as well. Sigh. Happiness is …

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s