To be a husband by today’s rules of the activity, is to accept coming in: a loss of substantial and meaningful friendships among both men and women, a permanent state of interloperage by a suspicious and meddling mother-in-law, a default status as at best a secondary parent and at worst a permanent whipping-boy on whom all is blamed that does not meet a mother’s expectations of child-raising, and the fixture of a continual threat stated or unstated that all Her Highness has to do is pick up a phone and bring his life as he knows it to a sudden and ignominious end.
Though you only flirt with a hypothesis here, Leslie Loftis, my own may be somewhat similar, but…
