I Do Actually Work

I’ve noticed that many people think I don’t work. Ben told Kate that he wants my life, sort of like how one might look at a dog sleeping on a couch and say, “I want your life.” But it’s not just Ben; others have been making fun of my cushy life. They are imagining that I lounge around all day at home in my pajama, flipping through Instagram looking for women to go eat with, and when inspired, write some essays on a recliner, while my hotshot wife brings home the bacon.

I’m not sure where they get these ideas from. I don’t know if you’ve noticed; most of the foods I post are cheap, mostly in Queens and Chinatown. There are no pictures of me hanging out on the beach, skiing, kayaking, or scuba diving because I don’t take vacations.

Okay, it’s true that I work from home, but that’s only because my work is entirely on the web, and there seems to be no point in renting an office anymore. I used to but stopped because nobody wants to meet face to face these days. Meeting in person is too costly in terms of time.

It’s also true that I don’t bother getting dressed. After all, what would be the point? I do sit on a couch sipping on the tea while my wife and daughter get ready for the day. But what else am I supposed to do? Go through the same motions just so that I look like I have a busy day ahead of me too? The fact that our dog too is lying on the same couch doesn’t help either. It creates an us-and-them kind of rift, and my life gets associated with the dog’s life. So, I try to distance myself from the dog until they leave.

I’ve also noticed that it looks REALLY bad if I bake something, especially gluten-free cookies for my wife because it looks like I’m trying to make up for not working. I don’t eat lunch, so I don’t take lunch breaks, but I do need to take some breaks during the day. Baking cookies during business hours just sounds bad, but it takes only about 20 minutes of my time.

I think there is some sexism here too. When the wife makes more money than the husband, people imagine a kept man whose only jobs are to look good and to take care of the house plants. I wish I were that man, but I’m not, so, it’s not fair.