Top priority for today is housework. My wife will be directing me–and helping me, since there’s more to do than I could possibly get done on my own, and tomorrow we both go back to work.
I was a typical bachelor slob. Super-typical. I don’t remember cleaning or dusting any of my apartments, ever. I guess I always figured if things got too bad, I’d just move.
Now, as a married man, I’m in charge of housework, in the sense of I get to do it. Just about all of it. A couple of days ago, my wife came back from Costco with a supersize bottle of Pinesol and a 2-pack of O-Cedar indoor brooms. “For you,” she said.
And I love it. Well, not all the time. And not quite enough to stop writing this blogpost to get started. But I love doing the housework for her. So she doesn’t have to do it.
How did this radical (and odd-seeming) conversion ever come about?
I think it must be a happy accident of evolution or creation (take your pick). Like that pronounced gap horses have between the canine teeth and the premolars; which allows for insertion of the metal bit used for controlling said horse when the animal is ridden or driven.
What is the equivalent in males of that convenient little dental slot? In a Wife-Led Marriage, it is I doubt not the established covenant giving the wife total control of when the husband will be allowed to orgasm. Though there is typically no exact correlation between how much housework is done and how often the husband is permitted climax, there is certainly a perception that the more she is pleased and pampered in every way, the more likely she will be to dispense intimate favors.
Something like that. I’ll try to be more objectively precise someday, but subjectively it does feel like being in harness, with a bit in one’s teeth and the reins in her hand.* That I do know and can attest to.
And I’m sure not alone. "Husbands Who Love Housework," it sounds almost Ripleyesque, as in “Believe It or Not.” Like the Portrait of Winston Churchill in a Potato Chip or a Two-Headed Llama (the pushme-pullyou of Dolittle fame).
But there are lots and lots of us who do it and love it, and love it especially when our wives don’t lift a finger, except to point, or perhaps run a white-gloved digit along a shelf of knickknacks to check for dust.
Think I’m kidding? I offer in evidence a sprinkling of testimonials, culled from hundreds of the kind you can find online posted every day on Female-Led Relationship (FLR) or Wife-Led Marriage (WLM) message boards and forums.
I’ll start with my old friend, Au876, who gives proper credit to Fumika Misato for the domestication of contemporary husbands by creating her pioneering website, Real Women Don't Do Housework:
“I am proud to be married to a Real Woman and, frankly, I don't care who knows it. I think men are much better-suited to doing the housework than women anyway.
I never felt unmanly because I worship and obey my wife… To me there is nothing more pleasurable than serving my wife. I often find I have become sexually excited at the darndest times. I may be ironing her clothes, cleaning the bathrooms, preparing dinner, washing dishes–you name it. And I realize I have an erection. She may not even be at home and yet I have become excited just knowing I am serving her in some fashion.”
This confession, of becoming erotically aroused by repetitive domestic drudgery, is quite common, as we’ll see a little farther on.
“Far from being ashamed of all the things I do for her around the house, and in the bedroom and boudoir, my greatest joy and fulfillment are to serve her with all the adoration and respect that she deserves.”
“I enjoy waiting on her hand and foot.”
“I am most comfortable when my fiancee chooses to relax. In our relationship, I am doing the man's work. She is not expected to lift a finger. I bring in a plate of cookies, some coffee, tea, or Perrier and we spend some time in conversation. Sometimes, she was work to continue. I find something else to do. However, I am always on call… She goes to bed first, and I straighten up the living area. I go up to the bedroom… While the house is always neat, I only take one or two days a week to do a complete cleaning.”
“I would rather she never lift a finger for domestic chores, but I have to accept her choice to pitch in. In a few years, i will retire, and i am hoping she will no longer feel the desire to pitch in and help.”
“It really makes me feel good to be like say fixing her dinner while she is watching TV or napping or reading the paper. The doing of it makes me feel good and the fact that I am doing it for her makes me feel good.”
As promised, here are some husbands who not only “enjoy” or “feel good” about doing housework for their wives, but get a wee bit graphic about those feelings:
“The more chores I can do for her, the more she allows me to serve her, and it makes me really horny.”
“To me, erections are a sign that our wife-led marriage is working. I can get excited on my hands and knees, scrubbing a toilet when I think of why I'm doing it.”
“The fact that I, too, may have an erection simply adds to the pleasure of washing that dish. In this way, housework can be a celebration of caring for the fine things in our home, not as a bargaining chip.”
“I do get turned on sometimes doing housework but I think it is because I know I am in service to her.”
“Does anybody else become aroused by doing housework? I now think about her constantly and all my housework and other chores keep me aroused as i know that I am doing them to please her. The chore has become its own reward!” (From fdhousehusband's blog.)
Well, the husbands have had their say, Now, as is only fitting in a wife-worship posting, I’ll cede the final word on the subject to a well-worshipped and satisfied wife:
“My husband does a lot of things for me that formerly were my chores. It was his choice to take on these responsibilities, and who am I to argue? His choice relieves me of the repetitive and tedious chores, and gives him an opportunity to demonstrate his devotion to me.”
*There are, of course, wife-led marriages in which the wife exercises control of her husband's sexual release by means of a male chastity device, to which she alone holds (and may even wear, locket-fashion) the only key. It is not much of a stretch to view this device, and its use by the controlling female, as akin to the equine harness-and-bit.
