One day, a curious thought crossed my mind: Why are there so few shops selling beads? It’s quite shocking that our city is filled with stores selling e-cigarettes and artisanal coffees, yet good luck finding a place for some unique polymer-coated glass beads.
I should clarify that I’ve never actually tried beading; I’m not particularly crafty. However, I soon found myself fixated on the idea of launching… an artisanal bead shop. This whimsical notion marked a low point in my life—a clear signal that I needed to reassess things.
I’m a writer and a devoted husband and father to three kids. Yet, during those bizarre weeks where I was concocting a fantasy bead empire, I was grappling with my identity. My background includes stints as a reporter, author, speechwriter, web developer, and music supervisor. Like many men in their 40s, I had followed my feminist mother’s advice and pursued my passions, but I often drifted from one creatively vague and not-so-lucrative endeavor to the next.
In contrast, my partner, Sarah, had been on a steady career path in television since college. She diligently honed her skills, crafting script after script, ultimately creating the acclaimed series Weeds and later Orange Is the New Black for Netflix. As her career soared, my financial contributions became less significant, and I found myself taking on more domestic responsibilities—handling carpools, home repairs, and meal planning. I began to connect with other men whose wives or partners outperformed them professionally, whom I affectionately dubbed “Plus Ones,” inspired by the fine print on fancy invitations addressed to our significant others.
While I enjoyed my time with the kids, I couldn’t shake off feelings of insecurity. Filling out forms that asked for the “primary cardholder” made me anxious. I exhibited strange bursts of aggression—like racing the minivan during carpool or jumping off rooftops into pools.
That’s when my fleeting interest in beading surfaced. Thankfully, I pulled myself back from the edge. Perhaps it was an enlightening chat with my more grounded partner? I can vividly remember Sarah’s raised eyebrow and pointed tone; somehow, the message hit home. If I pursued that imaginary bead shop, it would surely become the most dismal shop in history, chugging along until I realized I had zero passion for beads or beading.
Instead, I returned to writing—not out of boredom or desperation, but driven by the excitement of telling a story about male caretakers and female breadwinners. I explored the lives of men who manage the household while their partners bring home the bacon, examining the emotional landscape of women balancing work and family life. I wrote about the joys and challenges of being a supportive spouse.
This was the first time I had written without an editor or a specific assignment, and it was both thrilling and nerve-wracking. I started with real-life events but eventually let my imagination run wild, weaving a narrative filled with insecurities and dramatic turns. My protagonist, much like myself, struggled but took things to extremes, engaging in questionable behavior that mirrored classic midlife crises.
By pouring my midlife malaise into fiction, I avoided the typical path of reckless escapades. It’s a unique alternative, and I can confidently suggest that writing can be a healthier outlet than the usual vices. While navigating this literary journey, I had to clarify to my wife and kids that my characters might resemble them but were purely fictional.
Now that my novel is published, I find myself back in the supportive spouse role, allowing Sarah to focus on her career. I wish I could say I’ve completely resolved my issues and embraced my identity as a modern man, but I still encounter bouts of insecurity. It’s difficult to admit that my wife is the primary provider; although I understand the value of my contributions at home, I still feel uneasy when my day’s work amounts to school runs or meal plans. Holding my wife’s purse on the red carpet still sends a shiver down my spine.
Nora Ephron astutely addressed these feelings back in 1972, pointing out that despite progress, men and women still grapple with outdated notions of masculinity. She lamented the internal struggle between evolved relationships and lingering stereotypes.
While my midlife literary adventure has improved my self-image and brought clarity to my role as a caregiver, I occasionally wrestle with the lingering discomfort of societal expectations. I’ve learned that no one should feel diminished for prioritizing family, especially men who often face stigma in this role.
Instead of fixating on my perceived inadequacies compared to my wife’s success, I remind myself of the incredible family we’ve built together. I may be a Plus One, but I wouldn’t trade it for anything. When we enjoy a bowl of Vietnamese pho on Saturday mornings, our quirks align perfectly.
In summary, I’m learning to embrace my role in a household where my partner excels, finding contentment in our shared journey rather than dwelling on conventional metrics of success.
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Keyphrase: Navigating Gender Roles in Relationships
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