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We women of 2016 love to complain. I am clearly not an exception to that. We certainly have our reasons – if you look at a snapshot of gender equality today, you can easily surmise we still have a long way to go. But if we compare the rights and privileges we have today to those of our mothers and grandmothers, we are inclined to be grateful. Our generation gets a lot of shit for reasons we do not need to address here, but pretty much anyone will agree we are the most progressive generation in history on numerous issues – gender equality being one.
A significant privilege that comes with being a young adult woman in the 2010s is the sheer number of options. In the 50s and 60s, most women did not work, and those who did rarely saw opportunities to advance past menial jobs offering little more than minimum wage and rampant sexual harassment.
The 80s and 90s, on the other hand, saw the emergence of the dual-income household as a prevalent familial model. My mother started her own business in her twenties and put off marriage and kids until her late thirties. Growing up, almost all of my friends’ moms worked. The few stay-at-home moms of kids in our class were usually taking classes themselves, in an effort to elevate their educational stature and contribute more to the family pot of gold. From my understanding as a kid, it was almost frowned-upon to not at least be working toward a career.
Now, in the 2010s, pretty much anything goes when it comes to career/family balance. A lot of women view it as some sort of Cornelian dilemma in which you must sacrifice the emotional bond you develop by personally taking care of your kids in order to sustain a lucrative career, or vice versa. However, since a young age I have dreamt of a familial structure that I think, for the most part, evades the career versus parenting dilemma plaguing young women throughout our culture. And what is that?
I want a trophy husband.
I have no problem being the sole breadwinner of the family. In fact, I would prefer it that way. I want a man to be so dependent on me, he will stay with me no matter how fat I get. I want an unspoken agreement with the provision that for as long as I stay wealthy, he must stay attractive. I want to come home each day, kick off my heels, and put my feet up on the freshly cleaned coffee table as I flip on The Bachelor. And I want the first words I hear to be “Dinner’s ready!”
I want to show him off at all of the haute galas. Dressed in the most expensive suits. All eyes will be on him. When I see my frenemies with their less attractive trophy husbands, they will only be able to tell me “Wow, good for you.” When he asks me if he can make the guaranteed purchase on the autographed jersey of his favorite player in the silent auction, I will roll my eyes in jest and say (loudly, so the whole table can hear) “Don’t you already have three of those? Oh, not in this color? Well alright, you’re lucky it was a good month!” As I laugh with my friends, because could you imagine if that mattered?
When it comes to raising the kids, I want nothing more than the duty of sponsoring their sports teams with a monetary donation and attending at least three games per season. My husband takes the kids to school, practice, and piano lessons in the Lexus he begged for, because, “The Volvo didn’t have satellite radio, which is crazy. I mean, what are we, Amish?”
When the kids are in school or with the old, fat, British nanny, I will expect him to be seen at the country club socializing with the other trophy husbands. His only responsibility therein is to let the others know how different the papaya tastes in Fiji, how oops, he forgot to change his Tag Heuer back from Greenwich Mean Time, and how he cannot remember the last time he flew commercial.
Sure, I want love, affection, companionship, and everything else that makes up a happy and healthy marriage. I just happen to want those things from someone over 6 feet tall with a great hairline and no desire to succeed on his own. As a woman in 2016, I hold the potential to make just as many ridiculously excessive sums of money as a man does, and I intend to do just that. Whether that means closing deals and hustling up the corporate ladder, or hanging out at the country club to find the richest guy who is closest to death, only time to tell..
Image via Shutterstock
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Best
Best specializes in making fun of men and wondering why she is still single. She has over 6,000 followers on Periscope, the reason for which she has yet to figure out. Her Tinder bio once went viral for including a pretty mediocre fart joke. Neither of these events she allows anyone in her life to forget.
@WhatTheHellTina
@t_mihel
tina_mihel
Stay at home dad is my dream. I’ll even go down first.
I will one up you and I say I wouldn’t even expect the favor returned.
Take it easy, champ. I want to be a husband, not a servant.
Sign me the fuck up
You want your trophy husband to wear a Tag Heuer (and not a Rolex or a Patek)? I don’t think you’re aiming high enough.
Watches are more of a statement and personal style choice, price tag doesn’t always matter.
But all a Tag says is, “I can afford a non-descript $1,200 watch.”
I agree. I was just trying to defend her possible viewpoint. Scoring brownie points, if you will.
Pretty much this. Price tag doesn’t matter if you buy a watch because you like it. But if you buy a watch to be a status symbol (as the author implies her trophy husband would do), you should probably aim higher than a watch that screams “I went to Macy’s and got the most expensive watch they had.”
You’re thinking along the lines of Movado. Tag is at least Swiss and carried in most respected jewelry stores. It’s a good watch, but nowhere near a fashion statement.
Movado are also Swiss-made, although most aren’t automatic. Agreed that it’s a good watch and some of their higher end watches are beautiful (The Grand Carrera, in particular), but at that point you’re better off saving up a bit more for a Rolex.
A tag is (1) a high school graduation gift; or (2) a guy trying to look like he made it (so long as you don’t examine closely) that ain’t made it yet. It’s maybe ok for a daily wearer, but like Rico said, far from statement making.
I don’t get the huge watch thing… that is until you’re at least 45. If you’re 45 and look like an ex-SEAL you should definitely have a massive diver’s watch to compliment a Hawaiian shirt.
We’re talking about quality, not size. C’mon man. I like to think of my private life that way, true or not.
How about women wearing huge, guady oversized watches? Instantly put them in the unfuckable category for me!
I wear a $12 Casio. I’m just pissed they discontinued the model. I like to dress nicely, but I have zero fucking interest in showing off my money. I’m completely content knowing I have a big fucking bank account and can support my wife and son. I think it’s because I grew up working class and have had a job since I was 12 and my parents worked their asses off. They don’t care about showing off their wealth…now they are both retired and travel constantly and don’t have a care in the world. And have a huge fucking bank account that they earned, not inherited.
I actual marvel at my friends all the time as well. Most of my good pals are hugely successful and make nice salaries but are totally modest. Hell, my friend who is a radiologist drives a Jeep, nothing fancy. Guy makes a fuckload too. And hell, my brother was an investment banker and easily has millions in the bank and the fucker drover a 15 year old Camry to work when he moved out of NYC. Only last year did he cave in and buy the Porsche he wanted. Cash too. I honestly think I’d faint if I saw his bank account. Dude has ZERO debt and makes well into the six figures.
You should write an article bragging about your modesty
If I was in a room with you, Toby and Hitler I’d still shoot Toby twice but I would pistol whip you.
This is the most underrated comment I’ve seen on here in a while. Nice, Biggums.
The two bullet thing is actually a red herring, here’s what you do: you line them all up, you take one bullet and shoot them all through the throat at the same time
The only factual part of this rant is that you were at one point 12 years old.
Right at 6 feet and have phenomenal hair. Where do I submit my resume?
Sup?
Lol. Fancy seein you here.
my sister jokingly refers to her boyfriend as a “trophy boyfriend” because she’s a doctor and he’s a teacher. he sure lucked out on that deal lol
Teachers where I live make 120k after about 7 years. Throw in the extra money they make over the summer as a camp counselor and they have a lot of fun coupons.
Where the hell do you live?
Long Island
Probably fucking Switzerland
I respect that you know exactly what you want, but I’ll never understand a guy who has everything going for him and wants to make nothing of it. Maybe I crave power and control more than others, but I couldn’t ever see myself being content not working and growing professionally.
Some people might find the only job(s) they can get to be monotonous and boring and would prefer to something a bit more tangible like a quality home or being closer to his kid(s) than he could otherwise be. And working (even if only part time) from home is always a possibility for those people who are most likely more “right-brained” anyway.
This ^ is exactly how I feel as a professional woman every time someone tells me “you just need to meet the right guy and then you’ll want children.” Don’t get me wrong, I respect the hell out of stay-at-home mothers, but I’m 100% on board with this article.
I want to earn enough that my wife can be a stay at home mother, but I want someone driven enough to earn equally as much. I’d rather be a power couple than a typical suburban family.
Sup?
sup?
I like my job and enjoy making my family comfortable with my income, but I’d easily move to the beach or the mountains and just pursue my hobbies all day long, every day. I’m a very motivated/energetic person, but I’m not really driven by career achievement.
I have a friend who is an artist and he works as a professor. He recently told me his dream is to move to Mexico, live on the beach, and paint. I could see that being great!
So does my cooking/baking blog go down after my weekly cleaning schedule or my workout schedule on this application?
“Power isn’t a means, it’s an end.” – Melania Trump
In all seriousness though, if you cut out that kids part of the equation then this desire would manifest itself a lot easier. No need to put a living child into a dying world. If I was a trophy husband, I would take care of the house for my wife and then go to my drug room where I’d basically perform MKUltra Psy-ops experiments on myself with cocaine and LSD and psychedelic rock music until it was time to go grocery shopping. I’d then chase creative endeavors to make some money and I’d get home just in time to go to the country club to get drunk and eat some good chicken dinners with the other sad sacks of shit that we call neighbors.
Sup?
That drug room makes me want to be your neighbor
I….. I like drugs too
adding MKUltra reference…batting 1000 today nived
Ha, I wrote a paper during my Master’s degree work on the MK-Ultra program. A bunch of fucking fun to research that paper!
Can we be friends?
sup?
“I want a man to be so dependent on me, he will stay with me no matter how fat I get. I want an unspoken agreement with the provision that for as long as I stay wealthy, he must stay attractive.”
You better stop writing for PGP and get some cash.