My good wife

I don't want to come off as being patronizing or mushy. Neither of those adjectives is fitting when talking about my relationship with my wife. I love her dearly and she kind of likes me every other day or so depending on how clean the house is and did I do my share of the chores.

(My chores being closely defined as anything that needs doing that she doesn't want to do. By the way, she reserves the right to judge the value of my efforts at any time.)

But there is one thing she knows in her heart and that as a man I have that basic instinct to care for my mate. For instance, she will let me hold doors for her. I can hold the car door for her, but she drives. Evidently my skills as a motorist are insufficient as to engender a feeling of safety.

She allows me to carry heavy things for her, take for instance paint and decorating supplies. She will, of course, select everything we buy because my taste in colors and styles is considered below the standard.

She accepts, grudginly my compliments on her looks and clothing selections. My compliments mean nothing, because of the aforementioned problem of a lack of taste and judgement in such matters, but the effort can get me a pat on the head, not unlike the one the dog gets when it behaves.

She recognizes and permits me the feeling that I am protecting and caring for my mate, by making sure that I don't drive, pick out paint colors and buy her clothing.

I can protect her from me.