We all have household chores we enjoy doing.
We also have tasks we get stuck with because we perform them better than our spouses.
But then there are those tasks we hate and aren’t good at—yet we do them anyway.
This is what defines love.
Real love has nothing to do with flowers, gifts, compliments, or a kiss on the cheek. True love comes with a fair share of muttering and the occasional snarl.
Like yesterday, when my wife announced, “There’s a dead frog in our driveway.”
“In other words,” I surmised, “you ran over a frog.”
“I did, and it’s gross,” she said.
“And cleaning up a gross thing falls to me because I’m a man?”
“No,” she said as sweetly as she could, “it falls to you because you love me.”
It’s an argument I cannot win.
Much of our life is like this. I haul out the trash, clean the gutters, scoop the litter box, and dispose of dead mice. All these things I do because they are gross and unpleasant—and therefore demonstrate true love.
But then there are tasks that aren’t gross but are equally unpleasant, which I get tasked with simply because she doesn’t want to do them.
Like preparing meals.
Cooking is something that usually falls to women because society has deemed them better at it than men. I don’t think this is true. Instead, I believe that, like many things, people get better at what they do most often.
Except for me. I will always be a terrible cook.
My wife is much better at it than I am—but she hates to cook, so she decided I’m better at it than she is. Thus, she has been trying to get me to cook for years.
When we were first married, she bought me a cookbook.
“Here,” she said, opening the book to a delicious recipe for an egg-spinach bake, “all you have to do is follow the instructions.”
This was early in our relationship, before she discovered that it’s utterly impossible for me to follow instructions. I am simply too creative.
Why must an egg bake contain eggs? I asked myself. There was the name, of course—but why be bound by that?
So I substituted bacon.
And for spinach, since I hate the stuff, I opted for bell peppers—then, feeling guilty about the eggs, I added them back in.
It was delicious—or so I thought. But that’s when I discovered my new bride did not care for peppers.
“Peppers are gross!” she informed me.
So I reluctantly agreed—no more peppers.
The next day, she selected another egg-bake recipe.
Again, I substituted bacon for eggs, but given that she didn’t like peppers, I added hash browns before caving in and blending in the eggs.
This she did not like at all.
“Why can’t you follow the recipe?” she asked. “It’s so simple—just do what the instructions say.”
I shrugged.
“If you loved me, you would,” she said.
It’s a statement that has reverberated over the years, and to prove my love, I do many things. I mop up cat barf, unplug toilets, and take on all the nasty, menial household tasks because of my affection for her.
In short, I will do anything for love—but I won’t cook quiche.
Almost Iowa 
We have a pretty well balanced arrangement here. She took care of the cat barf. She does the cooking but I buy the groceries. She feeds the birds, but I clean the yard. I think I’d rather cook than shop, but I love her.
We have a pretty well balanced arrangement here. She took care of the cat barf. She does the cooking but I buy the groceries. She feeds the birds, but I clean the yard. I think I’d rather cook than shop, but I love her.
Ha, I get the same thing. “Oh but Honey, you cook so much better than me.” She knows better than criticize my cooking, however. That would elicit a response like, “Why don’t you show me how it’s done, Sweetheart.” But she normally likes what I cook and I usually take her tastes into consideration, like not throwing in the hot stuff, I like. That’s guaranteed to lead to sounds of dying.
Oh my gosh, I think you have just described most marriages! My husband also proves his love by locating and disposing of the dead mice that wind up in our basement, fixing toilets, doing the heavy lifting, etc. But I have to add that I also express my love by doing the things he doesn’t want to do, even when I’d much rather not. I do think that is what makes marriage work…the willingness to do the stuff your spouse won’t! (As for quiche, hey…you can live without it!)
You could try quiche one more time…can you scrape that frog off the driveway?
🤣🤣🤣
I can’t help wondering if you might have been listening to a certain song while pondering this post. It took no time at all for me to begin hearing you say to your beloved, “No, I can’t go for quiche — no can do!”
We all have lines we just don’t cross. Around here, we both do the gross jobs—when you have pets (for others, babies), it comes with the territory. I’ve cleaned about every disgusting dog or cat mess you can think of, but never changed a diaper and plan to keep it that way! Cooking I’m good with.
Yeah real men don’t cook Quiche.
If only I had someone who cooked meals, I’d do all those other nasty jobs. Oh, wait a minute, I already do all those nasty jobs plus cook and bake. I need a moment to think this through. 🙂
The perfect solution: only buy ready to eat (nuke em) meals and ignore all the nasty jobs until they get critical – that’s what I do. 🙂
My husband always says he loves everything I cook. What a sucker I am. Fell for that line and all these years later, I still do all the cooking.
But he cleans up cat barf. I will not do that.
As long as he cleans cat barf – you are golden.
And if real men were supposed to cook quiche, there would not be a whole book entitled Real Men Don’t Eat Quiche. Sounds like it would make an interesting gift for the little woman… hehehe
Not a bad idea.
I’ve been married 41 years and my husband has never cooked for me. Ever.
Come to think of it he’s never cleaned the litter box either.
Hmm…
Every family in the old neighborhood had at least 12 kids and everyone did everything. Later when I moved out, I only shared a place with someone from that neighborhood – because there was no reluctance to do anything.