The generation and culture that I have grown up in is a proud sponsor of independent women. I know tons of them, heck, I am one. We work full time and are at the top of our companies. CEO’s, entrepreneurs, office managers and such while still maintaining beautifully balanced lives all on our own. As most days, I am relishing in my Miss Independent walk back to my office after my luxurious sunny city-park lunch break, and I am distracted by a handsome young couple. She was wearing her three-piece suit with polished heels and he was casual with an Oregon football tee and sweatpants with a child on his hip. Both were all smiles, not a care in the world. They were fully engaged with their long goodbyes that were mainly focused on getting the little one to somewhat wave bye-bye. And there it hit me. I want that, I want a Husband.
I mean, why wouldn’t I? Yeah, I have an amazing life, with an amazing career, and yes I can take care of myself and anyone else I decide to bring into this world, but it could be nice having a Husband. Coming home from a long day at work to a foot rub, and a Husband to listen to all my woes and simply kiss me on the forehead and say that it will all work out and that I am the best. Yes, that would be fine with me. To get to wake up each morning with coffee and conversation before work, and have a Husband who would walk me to my car while carrying my briefcase, after all, he is the my number one fan and totally supports my career successes. I would not care if he was in the work force as well, at the top of his game, or a stay at home Husband to take care of the children we would have.
I want a Husband that is handy. Any little thing