Topsy-Turvy World

The other day, dining out with my wife, I was surprised when the server set the bill down in front of me, instead of my wife across the table. In fact, I was every bit as surprised as, say, a 1950s’ housewife would have been to have a restaurant check presented to her instead of to her husband.

Just for a moment, my world had turned upside down.

So firmly entrenched is our matrimonial role reversal as we go about our activities that most restaurant servers and hotel clerks and salespeople automatically gravitate to my wife and give her all the appropriate attention and deference. When we walk in to a store, or sit down at a table, it’s like I don’t exist. They always address their questions to her, as they should. I assist them in their perceptions of power, I’m sure, by default. I emit absolutely no pay-attention-to-me, head-of-household, decision-maker vibes. This is not by design, but by long practice. It simply never occurs to me. I don’t look up expectantly at approaching waiters or waitresses. If they look at me or address me, I’m not impolite, but rather than respond directly, I defer to her. Without thinking. It is almost automatic that I look at my wife when a question is asked of me.

Occasionally, if I’m feeling frisky, I may answer, proudly and cheerfully, “My wife makes the decisions.”

Frankly, I don’t think of the way we are as role-reversal or topsy-turvy. I used to, but not for years now. I think in terms of normalcy, the way things are and ought to be. Where the woman rules and the man obeys. I can’t imagine it otherwise.

And it is comforting when the world agrees with my reality, as it so often does. When she is addressed with deference, and I am ignored, all is right with my world.

It would be even more pleasing, someday, if I could experience the same harmonious feedback among married couple friends, at dinner parties and barbecues, say, or soccer games. Automatic subservience to the wives by all the husbands, with the men keeping silent but attentive when the women were talking among themselves, but always ready to respond supportively when prompted.

In fact, it is always jarring to me in social settings to see a husband question his wife’s authority, or make some macho remark, to dare to contradict her or to sound off on any subject whatever. Or actually to put her down. And I don’t need to tell you, all this happens frequently.

And when it does, it’s like being instantly transported to an alternate universe, where males are allowed to act like grown-up hooligans, much like the “Pleasure Island’ sequence in Walt Disney’s Pinocchio. I find myself looking at the wife and wondering, “Why do you put up with that moron?”

What used to seem normal now seems like Mondo Bizarro. “Curioser and curioser,” as Alice described the obvious absurdities of Wonderland.

In other words, to me it’s a life NOT lived under fully acknowledged female authority that constitutes the real role reversal, the real topsy-turvydom.

I can only take so much of this before I’m desperate to get back to reality—and my well-ordered, normal, natural, female-led and female-centric life.

Making role-reversal into the default dynamic of a marriage, of course, takes time and determination. But the reward for achieving it is the happy-ever-aftering of the storybook romance.

Ms. Lynda (of Spouseclub renown) was determined to settle for nothing less. And, so, she delighted in private and public displays of her role-reversal relationship with her fiancé (later her husband), whom she inevitably addressed and referred to as “Mr. Lynda.”

As more and more women take an active role in family leadership, she felt there should and would be more and more traditions to demonstrate women in charge. Her desire was to set an example, with appropriate public displays, of just how “woman-focused a marriage can be.”

“Has [your wife] ever made you call her Ma'am or such in public?” she asked a male Spousechatter. “I want to do that to Mr. Lynda during our [honeymoon] cruise so that everyone will know who the boss is at our house… As you know, it is often necessary for a woman to humiliate her man so he is reminded of who is in charge.”

She did exactly that, as she later recounts:

“On our honeymoon, we had some ‘antique’ pictures taken. In olden times, you could tell that the man was in charge because he was always seated. His wife stood behind or beside him. My husband and I reversed it. I sat and he stood. It is a subtle thing, but, it was not missed on us and some of our friends.

"Secondly, we took a busy and full bus into a resort town off the cruise ship. I made him sit. As head of the family, I must protect him and his honor. This reversal was noticed by several people. Finally, all reservations are made in my name and I produce the credit card. This is not so unusual because women carry purses. However, several hosts remarked on the reservation being made in my name. My husband was only too happy to inform them that I was head of the family, the breadwinner, and that he had taken my name in marriage. I do not know what they thought or said behind our backs, but they all treated us with respect and said our decision was cool.”

Some additional glimpses into Ms. and Mr. Lynda’s domestic arrangements:

“I do not lift a finger at home. I lounge around while Mr. Lynda does all the work. For the fun of it, I have had him serve me while he was completely naked. He is so handsome. A naked man can be a real turn-on. I love to see him grovel before me, kiss my feet and other parts of my body. It makes me feel so powerful.”

“I never want to hurt or abuse him, but, I do enjoy letting other people know that I am the boss. Is it wrong to want people to know that Mr. Lynda took my name in marriage? Of all the lovely things Mr. Lynda has done for me, this is the greatest because it tells the world that he sees me as the head.”

She counseled “Charles,” who described his own matriarchal marriage, to change his name to “Mr. Lisa,” then (with Ms. Lisa’s permission, of course) to order stationery reflecting the change:, “Ms. and Mr. Lisa Lastname.” Which he promptly did.

“I always love when my boyfriend does something that makes a very public statement of his subservience to me. I love to walk with him when he is wearing one of his matriarchal t-shirts. He has one that says, ‘I Belong to Her,’ and another that says, ‘Don't ask me. She's the Boss.’”

“It would be a real learning experience for men to have to live in a woman's world for just a few hours. It might truly change some minds if men had to identify themselves only by their wife's name (‘This is Mr. Susan Brown’).”

“My husband will be allowed to keep his masculine name forever. However, I do intend to always address him as Mr. Lynda in public. Someone must begin to set some new standards.”

A playful, fun-loving vixen, Ms. Lynda. Also a true believer and passionate advocate, who never backed down an inch from her strong views. As she signed one of her postings, in all caps like waving a banner at the barricades, “LONG LIVE THE SISTERHOOD OF WOMEN IN CHARGE!”

My question is, How is it with you? Does it seem jarring and discordant when you see husbands acting like it was 1955? Or wives deferring to them, or putting up with secondary status? Like me, are you slightly taken aback when you hear a wife respond to an invitation with “Of course, I’ll have to ask Bob.” On the other hand, my response of “I’ll have to ask my wife” is taken for granted. So much so, in fact, that friends rarely ask my consent or opinion; they know to bypass me and ask her. And they know that her powers are plenipotentiary powers, that she never has to say, “I’ll check with Mark first.”

Anyway, this is the blessed matriarchal universe that I inhabit, which completely encompasses my thoughts and feelings, hopes and dreams, and She is the radiant and powerful sun around whom I and the kids orbit, day and night. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Bow and Vow, Part 2

A fatally smitten suitor down on one knee, or two, before his beloved—it’s the ritual most associated with courtship.

Once married, however, even if a husband’s “heart fills with a newlywed's happiness, there is no accepted ritual that permits him to display the intensity of [his] feelings.” (I’m quoting my own book here, by the way.)

Which is why a growing number of us incorrigible romantics, of both genders, have been practicing and advocating “courtship marriages” under various names, any of which will do:

Wife-worship marriages
wife- or female-led marriages (or relationships)
“yes, dear” marriages
Venus-on-top marriages
“Around Her Finger” marriages
“She Makes The Rules” marriages
yes, even “femdom” marriages, for the more adventuresome couples among us.

And what could be more natural in a courtship marriage than hubby playing the part of perpetual suitor and kneeling to profess his devotion? And, yes, by “perpetual” I mean doing this every day.

Yes, there are other good reasons to bend the knee to one’s beloved. For a pedicure, or as part of a weekly evaluation session by the wife. Or as preliminary to receiving correction from the wife. (While some of these may appear offbeat, they are all, to my way of thinking, essentially romantic rituals, opportunities for renewed intimacy between wife and man.)

But more frequently than any of these, I think this ritual obeisance is part of what I like to call a husband’s daily devotions. It’s obviously a supplicant, prayerful posture, and prayers may indeed be spoken—to God, or the Goddess, or to a deity seen as incarnate in the beloved wife. Prayer and worship are inherent in a husband’s daily devotions to his wife, though not, I insist, in an idolatrous way, all appearances to the contrary.

But what I think those husbands are really doing down on their knees, more than either praying or worshipping (or toenail-lacquering) is simply…

Confessing.

The ritual of confession is practiced not only in confessional booths, but on psychiatrists’ couches, on bar stools (and, alas, under totalitarian regimes in interrogation rooms and re-education camps). But in female-led relationships, confession is best practiced on one’s knees.

I know this because I’ve done it as recently as this morning, and plan to do it again tomorrow (though sometimes just the act of kneeling before her constitutes my “confession”). A perfect example of this romantic confessional was offered by a cyber friend in the following FLR-type posting:

“When I catch myself doing [insert name of bad deed here], I will usually kneel before her, place my head in her lap and apologize for being such a ‘pathetic schmuck’ (her favorite term for me). That usually dispels some of the tension. I will usually also specifically apologize for whatever specifically I had done.”

Is a husband’s contrition, then, solely for the purpose of wifely absolution—or wifely punishment? I don’t think so. Usually, I think, it’s simpler than that. The husband confesses for the purposes of baring his soul before his beloved. He does (again to quote from Worshipping Your Wife) because he years to “Be Known by Her.”

The clearest statement of this yearning (and daring) that I’ve come across was by another e-migo of mine, also a frequent commenter here. I quoted it in the first part of the Bow & Vow post, but it’s so heartfelt and inspirational that I’m going to repeat a bit of what I wrote:

“Every day he gets down on his knees and affirms his adoration of his beloved. ‘I honestly don't remember the first time I knelt in front of her and just adored her,’ he writes. It just seemed natural. Down on his knees he repeats a series of daily vows that he wrote. ‘I say these to her every day, no exceptions.’”

At the heart of my friend’s morning devotions is a confession of his soul to his beloved, along with a special thank-you to her for permitting him to reveal himself:

"I very much want to serve and obey you.
I want to belong to you. I want to be your submissive husband.
This is who I am and I adore you for accepting me."

“This is who I am.” These five words are the key to my friend’s daily confessional. He wants his wife to know who he is, this guy looking up at her in utter puppydog, tail-wagging adoration. He wants to be “known by her” and, yes, to be accepted by her for who he is.

Now, I happen to know this is a very macho guy, assertive and successful in many arenas, including athletics, fitness training and retail sales. Obviously his beloved knows this side of him as well, and admires these sterling qualities. But it is psychic and physical nakedness he seeks before her on his knees, a psychic surrender that (as I can attest) often leads to a level of intimacy and ecstasy approaching religious rapture.

This is the altered state that Elise Sutton describes as the “submissive zone,” more commonly termed “subspace.”

“I felt totally naked, totally known (and owned), totally accepted by my wife,” one guy describes it.

Another puts it thus: “My sub space is experienced when I am able to humble myself before my Wife. I love kneeling before her and being at her beck and call.”

On the old Spousechat message board (excerpted in 10 parts on this site, the newlywed househusband “Mr. Lynda” speaks proudly of kneeling before his bride, Ms. Lynda, “every morning as I serve her coffee and breakfast. She is the willing partner eager to face the jungle of the workworld. Thank you Ms. Lynda. I acknowledge you as my Head and Boss. Long may you reign.”

Clearly, for these guys (and for me), kneeling and confessing, or “bowing and vowing,” is not some bizarre or edgy behavior, but a basic act of daily devotion, needful to the soul and essential to marital intimacy.

If “needful to the soul” sounds like exaggeration, let me assure you it’s actually understatement. You can get a better idea of the pent-up emotional intensity involved from this anecdote shared by Kathy in her popular “Femdom 101” blog. It occurred when she was “volunteering” at a local femdom “studio” in order to learn more about her husband’s submissive yearnings and was introduced to an older male customer:

“[He} just wanted to kneel at the feet of a woman. All of his life he had fantasied about kneeling naked at the feet of a lady, and being allowed to kiss her feet. Even more than that, he had a desire to tell someone of his need for submission. This was the deep, dark secret of his life. Even his wife of over forty-plus years had no idea of his submissive needs.
“We spent some time talking. I then let him take off my shoes one at a time. I then gave him permission to kiss each of my feet, and then let him suck on my toes. This older man actually broke down and cried. I wanted so much to cradle him in my arms. I wanted to kiss him on the cheek and tell him that [I] understood. Then it occurred to me that there are so many poor men like this sweet baby.”

Any wife who is initially put off by the sight of the man she married down on his knees again ought to reconsider , and realize that this posture is really a return to and continuation of passionate courtship. One wife who discovered this shared her feelgns on the Around Her Finger blogsite:

“He looked so incredibly loving kneeling at my feet. For the first time, I felt empowered. I can't really explain why, but it made me feel so very close to him.”

Kathy’s experience with the older gentleman who wept as he kissed her feet gave her a special insight into submissive men in general, and to her husband in particular. She shares it beautifully here, so perfectly that I think I’ll end the posting with it:

“One of the special moments in my life was the first time John knelt at my feet, and we talked as mistress and [husband]. In my view the first time a man has the courage to kneel at his wife's feet is a very special occasion. This special little physical act often helps a couple transcend many of the boundaries that have kept their marriage arrangement from moving forward.
“This may seem strange to many of you, but that moment John knelt to me for the first time, was as much of a romantic occasion as our first kiss. [Now, five years later,] there is never a day that John does not get down on his knees in front of me… This is the most intimate time of the day for us. It is when we communicate the best.”

Lighting Her Cigars, Addendum

This is really not a continuation of the previous discussion on submissiveness vs. obedience. I happen to enjoy Ms. Becky Sue’s definition,* though I can see how others might view it as a distinction without a difference, like “lawyer vs. attorney.” Obey or submit, does it really matter so long as the wife’s word is law and loving female authority reigns supreme?

(Of course it does matter in Ms. Beckie Sue’s household... and her husband knows to obey, not simply submit.)

But I just used this title because I came upon the top photo of Monica Bellucci surrounded by adoring sycophants--Che bella ragazza! And thought I better at least post something, along with an apology for being so scarce around here of late. I am involved in finishing a fairly fat novel (I hope), and subjected to more than the usual daily distractions. But I miss the community here. The solution may be to post a lot more frequently, but less verbosely. Briefs rather long-winded screeds. That’s my current resolve anyway.

PS: Another Italian beauty… (I know, she's English, but her name is Italian.)

* “A submissive male is one who seeks to serve a wife for his own satisfaction and pleasure. An obedient husband is one who understands female superiority and the need to always focus, support and serve that superiority.”--Beckie Sue

Lighting Her Cigars, Part 2

Part 1 on this topic posed a couple of questions dealing with female led relationships. I’ll start with the first one: Is servility to a woman incompatible with manliness?

Before I ever got around to writing this follow-up post, Lady Grey answered my questions as follows:

“What Dom wants a wuss at her disposal? Controlling an ‘A’ personality type man, bringing him happily to his knees before you, to be served not in a servile manner, but in a deeply grateful manner...well, I'll opt for that every time. Having an intelligent man who is perfectly comfortable in his manhood and who responds to your unspoken commands, to your gestures, your shrugs, your raised eyebrows, your tapping feet, and who can anticipate your needs and knows what to do to satisfy them...well, to me that's a real man. A man worthy of control, of rewards, and even punishment if need be.”

I think she’s saying it depends. One guy could respond to “your shrugs, your raised eyebrows, your tapping feet” in a Type A, manly manner; while another guy could do the same thing wussily, as it were.

Manly or even macho servitude to a woman is inherent in the Knight-Queen model of wife worship. The knight is servile to his lady or queen, obedient to her every whim, yet intrepid and brave in carrying out her commands and commissions in the world.

Can we apply those courtly standards to household chores, like polishing her pumps and hand-washing her lingerie? That’s the case I’ve been trying to make in my book and blog posts, under the general heading of Domestic Dragon-Slaying. I admit it’s kind of a stretch, but it is doable, and Lady Grey apparently agrees.

You’ll find unquestionably macho types--black belts, ex-linebackers, cops, weight-lifters--who relish being ordered about by a diminutive pistol of a wife or girlfriend. I could cite dozens of such testimonials, but I'll spare you this time. Take my word for it.

When my wife objected to my early signs of seeming servility (“Don’t be a sycophant!”), it stung. She was right, of course (when is she not?). I was overreacting to her musings and suggestions, flying off the handle to do stuff she hadn’t asked for. I had to dial back my fawning impulses drastically.

My solution was to be responsive, even anticipatory to her needs, but in a more laid-back way. I took as my model Rhett Butler catering to Scarlett with his lazy, tomcat smile, but catering all the same. Or maybe a guy from a moving van asking the lady of the house, “Where do you want I should put down this piano, lady?” Ready to serve, no big fuss about it.

But male servility and male submissiveness remain loaded terms as far as mainstreaming FLRs, and oxymoronic terms for some.

Even Beckie Sue, who contributed two stirring guests posts on female superiority (here and here, draws a sharp distinction between submission and obedience:

“I never liked the idea that some men are submissive. Men are by nature obedient. Through school (in the past), sports, military, and jobs they are required to be obedient; much more so than women. It is their nature to be obedient and to work. It is the nature of the female to be sexual/sensual and to direct the men in their lives.”

Beckie Sue describes her gradual journey from an egalitarian to a matriarchal marriage as a natural evolution, in which both she and her husband feel comfortable and fulfilled in their basic natures. So her guy is not submissive, she insists, although he is completely (and willingly) ruled by Beckie Sue in almost every aspect of his life, and has certainly surrendered almost all authority in the relationship to her.

At one point, as an example, she informed him that his paycheck would henceforth be direct-deposited into her private checking account, and that he would surrender his debit card and be allowed only $10 spending money, which she would replenish as needed. When he raised initial objections, her answer was that her decision was final and permanent.

“Of course he wasn't happy when I told him of this. But afterward he said his happiness isn't important, his only happiness is to see me happy. Which I am.”

This power imbalance is standard policy in many wife-led marriages and female-led relationships. A woman calling herself “Melissa” explained in a letter to Elise Sutton how all issues were amicably settled between herself and her husband Patrick:

“The First Rule of Our Relationship: We discuss; I decide; he obeys. In cases where my mind is already made up, or I feel strongly about a particular issue, the need for discussion is obviated and Patrick is simply informed. This eliminates the need for discussion in about seventy percent of all cases, allows Patrick to concentrate on his engineering career and leaves other issues in my far more capable hands.

“The Second Rule of Our Relationship: We have Absolutes; I have absolute freedom; he accepts and lives under my absolute control; this applies to all aspects; there are no exceptions.”

Which brings me to the second question raised in Part 1 of this post: “What is the proper role of power in an FLR/perpetual courtship marriage?”

This, too, elicited a quick and authoritative response from Lady Grey: “You ask ‘what is the role of the unequal balance of power in a FLR?’ I'd answer that the inevitable imbalance of power in such a relationship is the very ESSENCE of the relationship. A balance of power would make a FLR unworkable.“

But Beckie Sue’s ascension to the seat of power in her marriage was based on her gradual realization and acceptance of the “fact of female superiority”, which, she says, “is only natural.” So natural that her teen-aged daughters have found themselves elevated by degrees to a level just beneath their mother’s. Husband and son, meanwhile, have also come to accept the naturalness of this female-ascendant state of affairs, from which has flowed a willing, even enthusiastic deference on their part to female rule of the household.

It may, in fact, have been the avowed interest of Beckie Sue’s husband in wife worship that launched all these role reversals in their marriage. In this sense, she is only fulfilling his exalted vision of her.

There are obvious power perks for the wife who asserts and exercises primacy over her husband. As Beckie noted, “What woman wouldn’t want to have a marriage where what she said was final, where her husband would obey her and desire her? What wife wouldn’t want a home where the housework, cleaning, laundry, washing dishes, scrubbing the bathroom, was her husband’s job; she would be free to pursue more fulfilling interests? How many would enjoy those more fulfilling pursuits during the day while he is at work earning money for her to enjoy? What wife wouldn’t love to have control of his paycheck and manage all the finances? What female wouldn’t love to be worshiped as a goddess?”

(I found an interesting echo of Beckie Sue’s above quote in an old Spousechat posting from “Charles,” aka “Mr. Lisa”: “Lisa is the envy of all of her female friends, business associates, and female neighbors. What woman would not want a live-in housekeeper, cook, handyman, chauffer, butler, manicurist/ pedicurist/ masseur, personal assistant, laundry person, errand boy, and bedroom partner?”)

But there may be even more fundamental reasons for a wife to tilt the balance of marital power decidedly in her favor. A persuasive exposition of this can be found in “Vivian’s Domain,” re “Power and Beauty”(excerpted on my blog):

“…for most women, even attractive ones, it is not possible after years of cohabitation and child bearing to become beautiful enough to inspire the kind of awe that will motivate her husband. So, what can a woman do? She can understand this: Not only is there power in beauty, there is beauty in power! The ‘take my breath away’ kind of awe that a man feels when he sees a stunningly beautiful woman is similar to the feelings he had as a young adolescent toward women of power in his life—teachers, neighborhood moms, and strict women in general. In order to make your husband a better man and a better spouse, you need to make him eager to win your approval and fearful of earning your disapproval. You must exert the kind of power that grabs his attention, makes you beautiful to him and takes his breath away. You must make him adore you again!”

Power vs Superiority

For the FLR blogger I’M HERS, female-led relationships are all about power, not about female superiority. As he explained it in a May 6, 2011 posting: “The question I keep asking myself is this: Is [my wife] Katie my superior? When I bring the topic back to Katie and me, there is but one variable: power, and Katie has it all. I gave it to her. She’s the ‘professor’. She judges me; assesses me; makes the rules; gives me the syllabus with all the requirements needed to ‘pass her course’. She is the final judge. Does that make her superior? I don’t know and it really doesn’t matter. I am not in love with Katie because she is superior and I am inferior to her in every way. If that were true, why would she ever be attracted to me?... it’s not about what Beckie says [i.e., female superiority], it’s about a power exchange… Dominance and submission have all to do with power and nothing to do with a comparison of talents, intelligence and other such qualities.”

Obviously I agree with both I’M HERS and Vivian that a fully empowered wife is sexy. But, in my case, that’s putting the cart before the horse. Yes, my wife possesses and exercises the power in our marriage and family, to an extent that any monarch might envy. But I didn’t cede that power to her, nor did she appropriate it.
What happened is, as far as I can tell, my wife’s accretion of power occurred over many years, incrementally, even insidiously, as a natural by-product of her superior judgment, follow-through, practicality, memory, social savvy, strength of will, completeness of psyche, emotional range and maturity—yatta ta yattata.

I’m thinking that it was very like the tidal upward mobility of women in the workforce, especially in the professions. Yes, they now wield more and more power, and it is increasing dramatically year by year; but that power did not come their way via an abdication by males, or a storming of the citadel by women (though I do not deny the effect of advocacy, in opening up previous all-male citadels). Mainly it seems to have come about because, once in the door, a preponderance of women quietly and unarguably demonstrated not only equality with men, but a surprising superiority.

Thus it has been with my wife and me. Things go better when she is in charge, when I seek and follow her advice. Whenever I got angry with her (as I used to do), I would eventually realize that I was being childish, petulant and invariably wrong. When she became angry with me (which still happens from time to time), I would eventually see the error of my ways, realize that she was right (again!) and was owed an apology.

So, yes, in our house she is enthroned and empedestaled, worshipped and obeyed. I found my level and she found hers, simple as that. So, yes, power is sexy, but it flows, at least chez moi, from my wife’s superiority, at least some of it attributable to her gender.

And I consider myself a smart guy, by the way, but part of my smarts is recognizing that she truly is my better half.

*

Lighting Her Cigars, Part 1

Of course, she doesn’t smoke cigars, but if she did, we’d light them for her, wouldn’t we, mates? Because that’s who we are.

“You see many such couples… the man [is] completely trained and conditioned, he is ever alert for his cues. If his lady unsnaps her purse and frowns down into it, he at once presents his cigarettes, and they are always her brand. If she has her own cigarettes, he can cross twenty feet in a twelfth of a second to snap the unwavering flame to life, properly and conveniently positioned for her. It takes but the smallest sidelong look of query to send him in search of an ashtray to place close to her elbow. If at sundown she raises her elegant shoulders a half-inch, he trots into the house or onto the boat or up to the suite to bring back her wrap. He knows just how to apply her suntan oil, knows which of her dresses have to be zipped up and snapped for her. He can draw her bath to the precise depth and temperature which please her. He can give her an acceptable massage, brew a decent pot of coffee, take her phone messages accurately, keep her personal checkbook in balance, and remind her when to take her medications. Her litany is, ‘Thank you, dearest,’ ‘How nice, darling,’ ‘You are so thoughtful, sweetheart.’ It does not happen quickly, of course. It is an easy life. Other choices, once so numerous, disappear… And finally, of course, it comes down to a simple equation. Life is endurable when she is contented, and difficult when she is displeased. It is a training process, conditioned response."
—John D. MacDonald, A Tan and Sandy Silence

Clearly, John D. MacDonald--writing under fictional cover of his famous alter ego, Travis McGee--is deeply contemptuous of these men, who behave more like a courtier than a queen’s consort, devoting themselves utterly to her service, alert to, even anticipating her every whim.

But for many men like me—and it’s an increasing cohort of modern males, I am convinced---serving our significant female others as exalted queen or goddess is not seen as degrading, but as uplifting and deeply endlessly satisfying. Many submissively oriented guys can envision no more glorious fate, no greater manly endeavor.

For the first of many examples, here is an excerpt from a confessional letter to Elise Sutton, in which the writer revels in his fawning subservience to a beautiful, willful woman. And, among his many personal services, apparently, are lighting her cigarillos:

“She relaxed on her favorite white leather sofa with a bunch of new magazines I'd bought for her. I poured her a brandy and lit her Nat Sherman Black & Gold cigarette. She doesn't often smoke, but she and I agree that no pleasure should ever be denied her so this is a nice extravagance. I knelt by her feet, took off her shoes and began massaging her feet.”

It’s a common confession of wife- and girlfriend-worshippers, being exalted by obeisance to the adored one, leading a life in a devoted, female-centric orbit:

“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 is busy and 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.”

For many such husbands, their service to their wives extends to every room in the house, especially including bath and boudoir:

“I love to wash my wife's hair and scrub her in the shower, then dry her. Mostly because she loves it. If someone says it isn't important, I do not care. I know giving and loving are important to me.”

As I wrote in Chapter 5 (“Pampering and Pitching In”) of the original Worshipping Your Wife book, “There are manly guys who draw their wife’s bath. Who shampoo her hair. Who loofah her skin and even shave her legs. Who give facials while she luxuriates in the suds. And who are ready with a warmed, fluffed towel to enfold her as she emerges, a dripping Venus, from the bath. Who are rewarded with the further privilege of drying and powder-puffing her skin, or massaging it with moisturizing creams. And who, later, lovingly brush her hair, the traditional hundred strokes.”

And these:

“My wife came into the bedroom and sat at her dressing table to apply her makeup. She was wearing a silk robe that I had hung in the bathroom that morning. As she applied her makeup, she noticed that there was a chip in the polish on one of her toes. ‘I don't have time for a pedicure now, but fix that chip for me while I finished my makeup.’ I found the polish and first cleaned the old polish from that one toe and then applied a new color and topcoat. And then I remained at her feet…”

“Beauty care for my wife includes bathing her, brushing hair, doing makeup and nails, laying out and assisting in dressing her.”

“My Mistress requires me to massage her feet, paint her toe-nails and shave her legs. Occasionally she has me bathe her.”

“I'm going crazy, giving her footrubs, watching her try on new dresses, watching her put on her make-up in the morning, watching her do her fabulously thick and rich hair.”

“I kneel next to the tub and begin to bathe my wife as I have done so many times before. I try to remain calm as I run the sponge and soap over her back, breasts and legs as she relaxes.”

“Saturday morning after she showered, my wife called me in and said, ‘You may watch me put on makeup and blow dry my hair if you wish.’ I do love that, I have always stolen glances just to watch her do that! To me, a woman doing that is so feminine, erotic and powerful.”

Fdhousehusband, whose discontinued blog “Her Househusband’s Life” is sorely missed by many us, offers this advice to husbands embarking on wife-led marriages: “Help Her dress and undress each day.”

And for macho guys who, like MacDonald, heap scorn on such servile behavior, “Fd” heaps his own scorn in return, leavened by pity:

“i always laugh when i see [husbands] on TV shows, films and even [among] my male friends impatiently waiting at the door for their Wives to finish dressing and yelling out something about ‘being late.’ i think to myself, ‘Why isn't he helping Her?’ One of my important jobs is to help Her get dressed each time She heads out the door and to reverse the process when She comes home. my assistance saves Her precious minutes from Her busy day and makes myself useful. And besides, i get to enjoy this very special and intimate contact with Her!”

But, to return to the main point of this posting, is it really possible to reconcile such servile behavior with manliness? It’s a fair question. In the first giddy euphoria of this lifestyle, back almost fifteen years ago after I first launched into all-out wife worship after reading Lady Misato’s revolutionary website (“Real Women Don’t Do Housework”, I went a little wacky, I guess. My wife quickly became annoyed by my constant (and almost overnight) solicitousness. “Don’t be a sycophant!” she snapped. She was right, of course. (When isn’t she?)

I think I’ve learned a thing or two in the years since—learned how to reconcile manliness with, uh, well, servility, for want of a studlier word. Or, shallwe say, with service to my Queen. She does not object to being adored, catered to, obeyed, and all the rest. But she wants a man to be serving her and obeying her, the man she fell in love with and married, not a toady, not a wuss or a wimp.

Which brings me back, as seems inevitable in these postings, to the old romantic courtship model of wife worship, as set forth by Lady Misato and many others since. The paradigm is embodied in the knighthood ceremony depicted on the cover of my first book. The worshipful boyfriend or husband defines and models his devotion along the lines of a heroic knight to his queen, kneeling before her after each brave deed and seeking her next commission.

I use Knight-Queen advisedly, in preference to Knight-Lady, because a major motive to the medieval knight’s devotion to his queen derives from the vast disparity in their respective stations. It is not a disparity simply of rank, of course, or social standing, but of power. In the case of a Queen, we may assume that her power over the man on bended knee is absolute.

Thus the intrepid man-at-arms bowing low before her and stretching his neck in his prostration, prays for a gentle downward touch of the flat blade of the great longsword in her grip, conferring knighthood. But his submissive pose, and the fearsome blade she wields, also illustrates that she has the power of life and death over him. She could as easily smite him with the edge and remove his head--or have it done, the way Queen Elizabeth I eventually disposed of her beloved Earl of Essex.

This particular queen-knight tale has inspired many dramatic retellings, notably Donizetti’s tragic opera, Roberto Devereux and Maxwell Anderson’s play in blank verse, Elizabeth the Queen, which was adapted to the screen as The Private Lives of Elizabeth and Essex, starring Bette Davis and Errol Flynn. FLR write large.

Which brings us to a new question: What is the role of the unequal balance of power in a Female Led Relationship? But I’ll leave that for another day and another post.

END PART ONE