Recently, I was reminded just how old school the old-school way of thinking about gender roles really is.
I was chatting with an older man about younger people and our hippie ways, which included him making a crack about vegans, to which I lamented that my boyfriend is a vegan but he wasn’t one when we started dating. The older man quipped a joke about my cooking being the culprit behind his choice.
In as diplomatic a way as possible, I informed him that I’m actually a very good cook (maybe a bit of a stretch) and that my boyfriend and I actually share cooking responsibilities. This seemed to confuse the man even more. At which point, diplomacy went out the window and I just straight-up informed the man that it’s not my job to cook my boyfriend dinner.
Yes, sir, sometimes I don’t cook dinner. Actually, more often than not I don’t. But why? I mean, my boyfriend is doing that horrific balancing act of school and work; he’s super busy and stressed and would probably appreciate coming home to a clean house and a hot, homemade dinner every night.
But guess what? So would I! Yes, me! The woman who works two jobs, attends two post-secondary institutions, and more often than not doesn’t stop moving until I flop down on the bed to check emails and work on writing while Friends plays in the background until I pass out at around 10 most nights.
And even if I did have the time to cook every night, guess what? I still wouldn’t. Because, despite my like (“love” is too strong a word) of cooking, my kitchen is horrifically tiny with zero counter space, which makes cooking anything in there tedious.
The man gave me the head tilt and half-smile that I always feel should come with a condescending pat on the head that the older generation gives when us young folk say something radical. So, I gave him a tight-lipped smile in response and excused myself.
I got home that night and asked my boyfriend what was for dinner. He had made us pasta, which I proceeded to eat in bed while watching Friends. When I told him about the encounter, he laughed and admitted that he was a little disappointed that he wasn’t there to hear me correct the old-school way of thinking. I don’t know if I’d go so far as to say that I corrected the man’s point of view, but maybe, just maybe, I shuffled the timeline of his old-school ideas a little.