I mentioned to my partner recently that I’d been having some “1950s housewife feelings,” i.e. that I wanted to bring him a drink and suck his cock at the end of a long work day, after his return to an abode I’d made sparkle. He wanted more details, so I wrote this…
A lot of the pushback against the heteronormative ‘50s nuclear family lifestyle, rightfully so, is about the servitude the woman offers the man, focusing so much of her effort and energy on making him happy. It’s seen as disempowering for her to essentially devote her days to making someone else comfortable.
Granted, I don’t want my life to revolve so singularly around a partner – but I am drawn to the idea of my partner’s comfort and happiness being a goal of mine, in a domestic setting and in a ritualized way. Rituals and routines have always comforted me because they give me something to cling to when everything else is in chaos. So much of life is full of unclear goals – your manager may not tell you what they want from you, your customers may not know what they need, your parents may not articulate the ways in which you disappoint them – so it’s nice to imagine living in an environment where the expectations are very clear, and the rewards of meeting those expectations are known to me. This type of structure can both calm me down and turn me on.