So, The Trophy Husband.
I am thinking about The Trophy Husband. Not my Trophy Husband, particularly, because it's not Saturday night yet, is it? but Trophy Husbands. In general.
Note: Simmer down, everyone. The Saturday night thing is just a joke. Sometimes it's Friday nights.
I spot one. In Trophy Husband Habitat, to be sure. He stands in a Ladies Clothing Shop. A little awkwardly, yes, but nonetheless he stands, the lone man in the plus-size section. He sees me looking at him and he shifts a bit, raising an eyebrow, because he is mid-fiftiesh with a big belly and receding hairline, and I seem to attract those types, yes.
But, alas, I am not checking him out, no. I am looking at the large pink handbag draped casually over his forearm. Ah, the man who goes shopping with the wife and holds her handbag. A Trophy Husband. Indeed.
Other clues:
•The Trophy Husband is the fellow who fills your car with gas because you hate to do it and runs it through the car wash, while he's at it.
•The Trophy Husband is the fellow who mows the lawns and trims the bushes and wears his muscle shirt while he does so because you ask him to. Wear the muscle shirt, yes.
•The Trophy Husband wakes in the middle of the night and covers you with the blanket to make sure you are comfortable after disposing of a wayward cricket, if necessary.
Let's hear about The Trophy Husband in your lives!
Carry on.
4 comments:
My trophy husband is amazing.
He's the one who gets up on his days off from work without making a sound and gets the kids to school so I can sleep in.
He checks the fluids and changes the oil in the van "Just in case you decide to go somewhere"
I was hospitalized for 8 days last summer and he slept on a couch everynight- but most trophy worthy of all-- he drove home, brought back my favorite shampoo and washed my hair in a plastic bucket in my hotel room when I'd been able to do nothing but have a sponge bath for 7days. I still get teary eyed when I think about it.
It's not the grandiose gestures that make them wonderful trophy husbands.. sometimes it's just washing your hair.
I should proof-read before I post. That should have said "in my hospital room" not hotel room
Let's see; my trophy husband told me on Tuesday evening that I don't take the money he leaves in his tray, he has a special tray by the door just for his pocket collections, and it's still there when he gets home, it's going back into his wallet. Sweet man. But the most noteworthy is, when we are out at a BBQ or having dinner at someone else's home; my husband will fix my plate for me and before his own.
I should proof-read mine also: If I don't take the $, that he has apparently left for me.
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