Sunday, March 5, 2017

I Think I Need a Wife - A Journey into Femisogyny

Here we are - four years after my last blog post.  I am working an intensely busy job at a very high profile law firm, my oldest daughter has moved out (sniffle) and my son is 17 years old.  I am raising a tween.  Again.  As my youngest child is 10 years old and a girl.  I am so close to losing my mind I can taste it.  

I have found that the demands of my latest job allow my mind to work at the pace necessary to keep my anxiety in check. Constantly putting out fires makes my naturally worrisome mind weirdly feel at ease.  There is a certain comfort in fixing things; operating in emergency mode at all times.  All that being said: I still don't have a clue how to manage my life outside of work.  

Being a workaholic is great - but less acceptable if you are a female.  For some reason there can be a great deal of guilt when you are a woman who takes pride in working long hours and being indispensable at the office.  I feel like I almost have to apologetically do an amazing job.  When talking with my coworkers or chatting with others at networking events, I find myself holding back my enthusiasm because, if I don't, I am judged for being TOO involved in my work.  

After all, my primary function in life is raising my children and being a "Mom" (a title that is granted to someone regardless of her abilities to appropriately "mother" her offspring).  Don't get me wrong - I am a good mom, but it's not what I am BEST at.  And I feel like I need an anti-Pinterest venue where I can post my parenting failures without judgment.  It really is okay not to be a perfect mom.   

The thing I envy most about the males I work with is that they get to go home to someone who will probably have the laundry done, the house cleaned and dinner on the table (more often than not). And if they have a working wife, they generally can still count on her to have her shit together enough to have ordered something for dinner, straightened up the house and/or otherwise made plans for them to have a warm, slightly nutritious meal of some sort and maybe even dessert - at a table that is not covered in last week's bills.  Someone who has her shit at least 50% together.  

I envy that. To be honest (and sexist):  I think I need a wife.    

I would love nothing more than to go home to a well-oiled machine.  (Uh...that came out wrong).  I'd like to have someone there who has picked up the kids from school, made dinner, cleaned up, and made it a "home".  My dream would be to work hard all day long to burn off my intellectual and emotional energy (or at least that amount in excess of the amount tolerable by my spouse).......I would walk in the door to find a full glass of chardonnay and a half-empty couch.  I kick off my 6 inch heels and sit back and get a foot rub while sipping wine - the smells of dinner are already detectable in the background.  Italian food.  Inviting and warm.  My wife is so nurturing.  No wonder the guys at work seem so much more calm than I am.  THEY HAVE A WIFE.  My wife wants to make sure I eat healthy and delicious food.  Why Italian food?  Because she knows what I like because we've been together for so long now she doesn't even have to ask.   

She's not a "mind reader" (a phrase a lot of boyfriends and husbands use) but her intuition is amazing.  The effort is admirable.  I find myself wishing I could be as good to her as she is to me.  When I try to reciprocate, my efforts feel transparent and disingenuous.  (I wonder if this is how my ex-husband used to feel when he made fumbling efforts to reciprocate my nurturing and I have a split second of empathy.)

Back to the nurturing wife fantasy....

I am not hungry yet, I need to relieve the pressure of the day and relax and blow off some steam.   She leans in and rubs my neck and shoulders as I ask her to tell me about her day and I make every effort to listen carefully to her, while at the same time giving myself over to the relaxation.  I can feel myself unwind as I take a large sip of wine and exhale the stress away.  When she is done talking, I feel the need to use her mouth for other purposes and I push her head gently down to where I need it.  At that very moment, I want nothing more than a leisurely cunnilingus session, no reciprocation necessary.  

It feels good to be demanding and upfront about my desires without feeling guilty or apologetic. For some reason this seems to be easier to do with a woman than a man. Once she satisfies my desire,  I change into something more comfortable and we sit down to dinner together to talk about our days, the news, general gossip among our friends.  We stay away from hot button issues because now is the time for relaxation, not argument.  I compliment and thank her for cooking such an amazing meal and I clear the table and prepare to wash the dishes and/or load the dishwasher.  A hand is placed around my waist and a kiss on my neck as she slides into place next to me to help.  I shoo her away and she licks my nose. We work together to clean up after dinner.

After we complete the kitchen clean-up, we retire to the bedroom.  I press my face into the sheets and they smell so fresh and clean and feel soft.  It feels amazing to know she wants everything I touch to be fresh and clean and soft.  I tell her how much I appreciate the work she has done.  She beams with pride.  It's my turn to reciprocate in bed and I gladly do so for as long as it takes for her to be satisfied.  

We engage in more playtime followed by cuddling.  We continue to cuddle and stare at our phones and make fun of everyone who posts stupid things on Facebook.  She asks me to make up a bitchy story about a mutual friend, and I do.  She tells me I'm mean and I tell her she's adorable. We play-fight and that turns into an extended make out session, which was her plan all along.  (I told you she's adorable).

After we've exhausted one another, I can finally fall asleep guilt-free and rest my exhausted body and mind.  

When I wake up, coffee is brewing and there is plenty of hot water for a long, hot shower.  The laundry is done and i don't have to rifle through the laundry basket for my stockings.  I take my time in the bathroom because she doesn't have to get out the door as early as I do.  Since this is MY fantasy., I've decided she works part time in a shoe store - not because we need the money - but because it affords me the opportunity to get a significant discount on Louboutins and it allows her the opportunity to contribute to the household in a meaningful way.  

Apparently I am not only sexist but a full-blown femisogynist.   In my fantasy world, I have the perfect partner, who happens to be more submissive and nurturing........ and female (because men tend to be very dominant and more intimidating what with their man penises and all...).  

I hope you enjoyed this little venture into fantasy land.  

Please keep an eye out for my next blog which will be posted Wednesday!

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