IN PRAISE OF A HUSBAND.

Otago Witness, Issue 3995, 7 October 1930, Page 62

IN PRAISE OF A HUSBAND.

We are constantly reading articles written by women for women, in Which husbands are severely censured for being unromantic, for forgetting to flirt with their wives, through compliments and flowers —in fact, for forgetting generally to keep up the amenities of courtship days. But isn't it asking rather too much of a husband of 10 years’ standing to behave like an ardent lover ? °

Yet nearly all wives who ask it, especially the busy ones, would hate it if they got it. What, for instance; would little Mrs Jones, with all her housework, washing and three young children to look after,

do with a Rod la Rocque about the house expecting her to be a Greta Garbo all the time?

What would the business woman, tired out with her long day in the city and only wanting to relax in a comfortable armchair, assured of a quiet, kindly sympathy from the chair opposite, do with the sort of man for whom as a novelist recently described it, “ love is a difficult and subtle art?” What peace of mind would she have, as she embarked on her day's toil, never knowing where her artist husband would see fit to employ his talents in her absence? No, for the busy woman the time has passed for “ love to be her whole existence.” She now has to take it in her stride as a simple, natural fact, as men have taken it all along. Your romanticist takes too much living up to. For him you would always have to be at the top of your form, beautifully dressed, ready to respond suitably to his subtleties. * On the whole, the average, domesticated British husband, wlio can be relied upon to stay where you put him and can be found when required, who pays the bills regularly, who is smugly fond of his wife and family because they are his, and stolidly works for them 48 weeks in the year, is a great deal more satisfactory to the sensible woman than the born lover.

How devastating to feel that you could not relax with your own husband. Your husband may not notice your attractions, but then neither wild he observe your shortcomings. For him, love will mean not want, but service—service which goes strangely unlauded and is usually taken very much for granted, but, nevertheless, nearly approaches the sublime.

For myself, I would choose the com-mon-or-garden husband in preference to a married Lothario'.

And I will not ask him; as so many of my sex do, to forget he is married to me—to flirt, dance, and play with me. I only ask him to go on loving me, deeply, practically, if inarticulately, proving that love by unromantic service.

“ Hitch your wagon to a star,” my sister, if you like, so far as you yourself are concerned, but if you want to be happy don’t expect too much from your husband, just be grateful for all the dear ordinariness of him—and you’ll find him so peaceful, so happy to live with.—Home Chat.