Get in the kitchen and make my dinner, woman!

I am a feminist. This blog said so. So it must be true. :)

No, but really. I've always known I was. Which, according to the standard socially accepted definition of the word, would be quite a surprise to most of the people I know.

There's no question that The Man "wears the pants" in our family. I tend to clear things with him before I make decisions, he is the major disciplinarian in the family, he is the one who decides how we spend the money, and all that jazz. In the past, the fact that I "dote" on him has caused unrest in the eyes of other women in my life.

And sometimes that really pisses me off. Mostly I let it slide off my back, but sometimes it just grates on my last nerve. Because I make the decision to treat The Man the way I treat him. If I fix his plate at a barbecue and bring it to him, it's because I want to do it. I like doing little things for him and that's the way our relationship works.

It's not like he's sitting around shouting out "WENCH, BRING ME A BEER AND A SANDWICH AND MAKE IT SNAPPY!"

Okay, he may have said that once. But he was kidding, I promise.

It's not like things don't go both ways. He brings me glasses of wine while I take baths and then he sits in the bathroom to talk to me while I relax. He gives the absolute best shoulder massages ever. He runs errands and vacuums and once I even caught him folding laundry. (I took a picture, but if I posted it he'd kill me.)

But yes, in the grand scheme of things I do most of the domestic work (poorly) and he does most of the more serious big decision making stuff. And he takes out the trash and deals with anything that uses a motor.

So does that make me less of a feminist? Hell to the no, ladies.

And when someone gives me crap for bringing him a slice of pie when he has two working legs and could do it himself? I say, take a look in the mirror. Who's the one putting women down in this scenario? The one giving me a hard time for making a decision that you wouldn't make for yourself? Or the one doing a simple task that makes the love of her life just a little more comfortable?

At the end of this year, The Man and I will celebrate 10 years together. We've had our fights and our problems and there have been times when both of us had doubts that our partnership was as fulfilling as we would have hoped. But still, to this day, when I look at him I know that I am hopelessly in love with him. Not the same kind of twitterpated, fluttery love that I once had for him, no. This is deeper and smoother and safer, the kind of love I can count on when the rest of the world is crashing down around me.

Who wouldn't want to bring that man a slice of pie?