It’s easy as a writer to sink into the work and to never allow the real world to intrude. But often times we’re just fooling ourselves. The real world is out there and it’s going to intrude when we least expect it. My husband –some of you know him from his ridiculously funny Twitter feed as Mr. Blissful – recently came home from his high powered corporate job with news we’ve heard more than once.
The first time this happen I cried. My stomach was in knots. My whole world felt upended. We had been married since I was 22 years old and by the time I was 28, he was the sole provider for our growing family. He got a job before the actual lay off kicked in, but now he was determined. Before our second lay off, he put himself through grad school and got his MBA all the while working over 40 hours a week. Because we weren’t going to be in the same position again.
Except that we were. He was laid off. We held hands. I cried. We had two kids in school and a baby who wasn’t a year old. And he found a job – again before we even had to accept COBRA.
Years pass and this amazing thing happened. I followed my dream and it paid off. Because he supported me, I was able to work to the point that I suddenly made more than him.
So when he walked in and, with a sigh, told me that he was laid off again, I shrugged and poured him a rum and coke and asked him how long he’d be willing to stay out of the work force.
Because the truth is – I could use a wife.
So now he calls himself a Domestic War Lord.
He cleans. He does laundry – like obsessively. He asks in a slightly prissy voice why I put that sock on the floor when the hamper was right there. He’s organized the garage, rearranged the game room, and cleaned every toilet in the house. He’s taken the children to their activities – to class, the library, the park. He buys groceries and has become the drill sergeant my children worry will never go back to work. And yes, he’s offered himself up for as many sexual encounters as I want.
He intimidates me. He worries me. I kind of think the fact that every piece of my clothing is clean and neatly hanging is ridiculously sexy.
So now I’ve decided that my new hero is the Domestic War Lord. Here’s to you, Mr. Blissful. You might not bring home the bacon anymore. But you do fry it up in a pan. And you never, ever let me forget I’m a woman.
Sophie Oak writes erotic romance for Siren Publishing.
Her latest, Found in Bliss (Nights in Bliss, Colorado 5), is available now.