Confessions of a Kept Husband

This has probably got to be one of the most trite and clichéd questions ever to exist in the English language. Which kind of begs the question, does this expression exist in other languages, or is it a uniquely Western expression?

Anyhoo, whenever I used to hear people ask this question in magazines, TV shows, or just around the water cooler, I used to completely tune out. I mean, can we really say with any kind of certainty which personality types work together? I know some astrologists and other new-age hippie types (Hi Havi! - just kidding) believe you can, but I guess I just thought that this was one of those never -going- to be -resolved type things and moved on with my life.

Recently though I have been struggling with this question. Naomi and I have always had our differences. She is a lot more left-wing then I am, for one. She is also a lot more self-confident than I am. I, on the other hand, tend to be more rational than she is. I also am more solution-oriented than she is. She likes to talk, and I like to solve. Usually, though, these differences complement each other pretty well.

After Naomi started her business these differences started to become a lot more apparent. She is way more of a risk taker than I am. Way more. She is completely happy to spend the rent money on something a week before rent is due in complete confidence that something will come up between now and then to make everything all right. And the worse thing is, she’s usually right. But occasionally she’s not.

It’s dawned on me that our different risk tolerances spill over into almost every aspect of our lives. Before anyone offers to send us to counselling, let me say that Naomi and I love each other very much and have a very strong marriage. But I can’t help but be aware of all the compromises Naomi has to make for me, and the ones I make for her. And sometimes I find myself wondering if this is sustainable.

If opposites don’t attract, then how long can these compromises go on before someone starts feeling they’d be better off on their own? I know that everyone says marriage is about compromise, but sometimes it feels like we’re compromising on everything. Which is great for “us” the couple, but means that neither one of us ever really gets exactly what we want.

So how do you know? How do you know when you’ve made one compromise too many? And if marriage is about compromise, <em>can</em> you make one compromise too many?

October 6th, 2008 | Category: Uncategorized | Comments (7)

[Editors note: While there is nothing more lame than someone apologizing that they haven’t posted in a while as if people were breathlessly awaiting the writer’s latest piece of wisdom, I do want to assure people that the appalling lack of posts is due to my computer being fucked for the last 34 days. This blog should be updated more than once a month]

First, let me begin by saying that if the title of this post is literally your problem, I’ve got nothing for you. If you got to this post by using the title as your search query in Google, all I can say is go to the hospital.

Having said that, let’s get on with the post. When Naomi decided to start her own business, I was totally on board. This was not as difficult as it may originally sounds, because Naomi is totally unsuited to work for anyone. She just can’t handle the red tape and utter stupidity that often comes with working for a boss.

But (and isn’t there always a but?), there was one problem. With Naomi starting her own business and me staying home to look after our son Jack, we were essentially trading gender roles. No longer would I be the sole financial supporter of our little family. I steeled myself for all the criticism I was sure to come from my sexually unenlightened and patriarchal peers.

Basically, it never came. There were no awkward conversations, no pauses as people tried to comprehend our new living arrangements. There was a time when someone told me not to worry, I’d eventually figure out what I wanted to do with my life. Considering that I have always worked for major corporations, however, I think that statement was less about gender roles and more about me going completely against what that person thought was my personality.

I didn’t get the weird looks from other people. I got the weird looks from myself.

I like to think of myself as liberal and open-minded. Recently though I have had to reconsider this self-image. I have found myself fighting against stereotypical thought, but not from other people - from myself. I’m worried that by giving up my role as the bread-winner my wife is going to wake up one day and realize that she is doing all the (financial) work. I’m worried that she’s going to wonder what exactly it is that I bring to the table.

Anyone who knows my wife knows that this would never actually happen. She is a take charge kinda gal, and is quite comfortable in her new role. But I have to say it’s weird when you have one of those moments where you realize you might not be the person you thought you were. Not better, not worse, just not who you thought. I’d never realized before how entrenched these ideas can become in our social consciousness. At least my social consciousness, anyway.

October 2nd, 2008 | Category: Uncategorized | Comments (18)

It was a very sad day for our little household here in London (Ontario Canada, not England – just to clear up any confusion). They closed our Tim Horton’s, and there’s very little I can do about it.

For those of you who are not Canadian, Tim Horton’s is a coffee house franchise that has reached almost religious status in regards to the fanaticism of it’s patrons. The phrase “double double” (meaning two creams, two sugars) was actually entered into the Oxford Canadian dictionary a few years back. It was a place to hang out, meet friends, and all for the low low price of about $1.25 for a coffee and $0.90 for a donut. Suffice to say, my wife and I used to hang out there a lot.

Interesting little tidbit – London is the Tim Horton’s capital of the world. I’m not joking. There are more Tim Horton’s in London Ontario per capita than anywhere else in the world. But the problem is, the one they closed was the only one we could really walk to. And we don’t own a car. There is one we could walk to, but it’s owned by the same person who closed our location and I’m mad at them and don’t want to give them the business.

Since this is a little petty even for me, I began to realize that somewhere along the way I started thinking that it was all about me. I was mad at them closing the Tim Horton’s because it was my Tim Horton’s. But really, what were they supposed to do? Lose money hand over fist so that I wouldn’t have to get my coffee somewhere else? And it wasn’t just the Tim Horton’s either. I thought seriously about calling the police on my neighbours because they were having a really loud party. It was 3 in the afternoon (I didn’t by the way. I’m not that bad. Yet.).

When did I become this guy? I thought that when you had kids you were supposed to realize your place in the world. Suddenly it isn’t all about you. There is a constant reminder that you are not alone in this universe. But then I realize that all this bullshit I picked up about how children change you was wrong. They do change you, but not necessarily in the ways you expect.

My son is usually well tempered, but he can throw a massive fit with the best of them when things don’t go his way. And not in the “I wanted to go to the park but instead you took me to the grocery store” kind of way. More of the “Screw the laws of physics, they shouldn’t apply to me” kind of way. He believes that things should work a certain way, and doesn’t even consider that he might be wrong. This results in him starting to cry if he can’t fit a 8 inch remote control throught the ¾ inch neck of a pop bottle. And he’ll try for hours to get that stupid remote into things it was never meant to go into. Why? Because in his world, everything is about him. Things should work the way he wants them to. He’s too young yet to understand that often life doesn’t go your way, and sometimes there isn’t really anything you can do about it. To him, anything is and should be possible. With enough effort and crying, that is.

When my son was born I was so worried about how I was going to affect him or how I was going to accidentally screw up his life that I didn’t notice how he was changing me. My attitude is different. I am quicker to see injustices. Most of all, I am quicker to question why something is the way it is. I’m not sure yet if this is a good thing or a bad thing. Obviously, questioning assumptions is a useful thing to put into practice. However, sometimes it’s just easier to find another coffee house.

August 26th, 2008 | Category: Uncategorized | Comments (3)

Ok, first of all a little housekeeping. My first post was about how I hated this guy called Black Hockey Jesus. Now I know that the idea of sarcasm as a form of humour has been around for something like millenia, but for some reason I get all worried that someone out there isn’t going to get it. So just for the record, I like Black Hockey Jesus. He’s an awesome writer and you should really check out his site.

 

I was thinking about the whole “why don’t I work” thing. You would think that this would be a sweet lifestyle, and it is pretty awesome. But for some reason I can’t seem to get over this feeling that I should be working.

When I was a kid, I never really had any ideas of what I was going to be when I grew up. Call it laziness, or lack of imagination, or whatever, but I just didn’t seem to care. Nothing seemed to appeal to me. There was a couple of days when I was ten when I thought I wanted to be an astronaut. My mom, probably already beginning to realize my complete lack of skills in the math and sciences department, told me about a woman named Christa McAuliffe. She was a teacher who was about to go up in the space shuttle as a part of NASA’s Teacher in Space program.

“Why don’t you become a teacher?” she asked me. “That way, you would have a regular job but you still might be able to go up in space.” This seemed pretty reasonable to me. No strenuous math/science work but still an opportunity to get to be an astronaut. Seemed like a good plan, so I put paid to the whole what to do when I grow up question, and went on with my life.

For three more days. As some of my more “experienced” (read: old) readers may begin to realize, Christa McCauliffe was selected to be a crew member of the Space Shuttle Challenger. The Challenger exploded 73 seconds after take-off. Pieces rained down on the Atlantic ocean and Florida, and it was broadcasted all over television (that thing we used to do before they invented the interent). I remember watching it on the news.

Since then I think I’ve been a little bit afraid to decide to do anything when I grow up. And I no longer watch the news.

August 25th, 2008 | Category: Uncategorized | Comments (6)