Free How to be a Husband by Tim Dowling

require, please don’t hesitate to call me.
    Making fire.
Arguably the smartest thing man ever did was learn to make fire. Definitely the second smartest thing we did was to keep the technique a secret from women. Coaxing flame from wood and charcoal is still considered men’s work, even if nothing else is. Be poised to light the barbecue when asked, and do it when no one is looking. This would be a very bad moment in history for women to find out how easy it is.
    Freelance fact delivery.
I know some things. Would you like to know them too? Random information disgorged, all day, every day. No need to ask, just drift within earshot.
    Professional Goldilocks.
While women continue to rise to prominence across most employment sectors, they remain hampered by a gender-wide insensitivity to extremes of hot and cold. If you’ve ever seen a women handle a mug straight from the dishwasher at the end of its cycle, you’ll know what I mean. With their weird tolerance of overhot baths and underheated houses, women simply cannot be relied upon to gauge appropriate temperatures. Fairy tales are lovely, but if you really want to know when your porridge is “just right,” don’t hire a little curly-haired girl. Get a man in.
    Human pocket.
Need me to carry anything? Don’t worry, I’ve got plenty of pockets. In fact I’m all pockets: trouser pockets, coat pockets, front pockets, back pockets, inside pockets, outside pockets, breast pockets, ticket pockets. It’s okay—bring that tiny bag just big enough for a lipstick and a mint; or better yet, no bag at all. I will carry your phone, your water, your glasses, your other glasses, your keys, your book. THAT’S WHY I WAS PUT ON THIS EARTH.
    Once you start looking, there are all sorts of little ways youcan make yourself useful. It’s largely about being in the right place at the right time with the right skills. Above all, don’t panic. It’s probable that scare stories about male obsolescence are a trifle overstated. They said the same thing about the horse when the motorcar was invented, and you know what? I saw a horse just last week.
    *   *   *
    M arried life does not, at first, seem much different to what went before. We don’t argue less or more. We don’t get any headed stationery. We don’t behave more responsibly, or with a sense that people are expecting something new from us. When we bowl out of a party drunk at three a.m. and I turn to wave good-bye, only to turn back and find that my wife has completely disappeared, I do not regard her decision to ditch me as a marital impropriety, but simply a rotten thing to do. When I then hear a small voice saying “Help me” and realize that she has actually fallen over and become inextricably lodged in a hedge, I don’t see it as being somehow incompatible with our vows. I just think about how hard it’s going to be to get a taxi to stop for us if she’s covered in leaves.
    â€œI’ve lost a shoe in here,” she says.
    â€œStop struggling,” I say. “You’re damaging the hedge.”
    Mostly, we are taking the time to enjoy being together without the imminent threat of having to break up. Eventually, however, things do begin to change. Speaking of my wife as “my wife” stops being funny—not that anyone ever laughed—and starts to seem oddly normal. The tiny flat is now full ofwedding presents, many of which have a distinctly domestic agenda: You’ve got a flan dish, so when are you going to make some flan? I find myself in a position to open a current account. People ask us to dinner three weeks in advance, instead of three hours. I’m left notes in the morning reminding me to pick up the dry cleaning. From where? I think. Suddenly being married seems to come with an awful lot of stuff to do.
    THE TWELVE LABORS OF MARRIAGE
    Although there is an inevitable amount of sharing involved, a