Episode 44: Dear Beloved Wives
C MThis is our letter to the Beloved Wives. We hope that you find the comical satire in our letters and stay tuned for more letters to come.
Legal Disclaimer: The following letter is a work of satire and comedy. All names, events, and scenarios are fictionalized for humorous purposes and are not intended to be taken as factual statements.
READ THE LETTER - EPISODE 44 - Dear Beloved Wives
First off, let us say it loud and clear: we love you. Fiercely.
Wholeheartedly. Sometimes fearfully.
But if we may, and we say this from behind a locked bathroom door, we’d like to speak for husbands everywhere who are bravely enduring the uncharted emotional wilderness that is perimenopause meeting burnout meets “I saw the laundry basket three hours ago; why is it still there?”
You see, we’ve evolved.
We’re not the cavemen anymore. We cook. We clean. We make Target runs like battle-hardened combat soldiers in Iraq. We even pretend to care deeply about throw pillow aesthetics and whether the new rug is “too busy” for the living room. (It’s a rug. It lies there. How busy could it possibly be?)
We say "yes, dear" like it’s punctuation.
We fold towels in thirds instead of halves because you saw it on TikTok.
We agree that Karen at work definitely had a tone.
We survive emotional ambushes like ninjas, except without the ninja reflexes or insurance coverage.
And yet, despite all of this… we still somehow end up as the emotional piñata by 7:00 p.m. every day. We come bearing peace offerings, groceries, takeout, and a slightly wilted flower we stole from a neighbor’s garden and still catch the full force of an exhausted sigh, an eye-roll calibrated to shatter bone, and a three-part monologue that starts with, “Do you even listen to me?”
Yes. Yes, we do.
It’s why we’ve been mentally buffering for 48 minutes trying to figure out what we should’ve said yesterday to avoid today’s silent treatment.
Look, we get it. Life is chaotic. Hormones are riding rollercoasters. The mental load is heavy. The kids are feral. Society expects you to be a CEO, Pinterest mom, marathon runner, and emotionally stable all at once.
But just a gentle reminder from the exhausted humans in your orbit, we’re on your team. We're not perfect, but we are trying. Desperately. Clumsily. Lovingly. We’ve Googled “how to understand mood swings” more times than we’ve checked sports scores this year.
So, before you throw another verbal cast-iron skillet in our direction, remember:
We didn’t forget the milk on purpose.
We don’t understand your dreams because you mumbled them at 2:43 a.m.
And we definitely didn’t move your keys. That was the dog. Or the child.
Or possibly a ghost.
With all due respect,
The Loving Husbands
Still standing. Still folding. Still catching shrapnel.
Legal Disclaimer: The following letter is a work of satire and comedy. All names, events, and scenarios are fictionalized for humorous purposes and are not intended to be taken as factual statements.