When a ceiling light went out, I called an electrician for most of my life. When the toilet was clogged, I called a plumber; when pigeons got into the garage, I called an exterminator. When the basement was filling with water, I called a handyperson. When I needed to stack firewood, I called some local kids who love small jobs. When leaves clogged the gutters, I called a landscaper. That was my life before Maria.

When I was frightened or panicked, I would call no one and hide it from the world, fearing shame and ridicule. I had a lot of burdens to carry. One was that the man was the provider; his worth was often judged that way.

That is also different. I found help from an accomplished and strong-willed therapist. And my marriage has made me strong.

This is in no way a threat to me or a diminishment. It has helped me to be a better human and a better man. My heart aches for the men who can’t see that. They desperately need a movement of liberation from the onus and heavy weight of being an arrogant male.

I don’t call any of those people I mentioned above above.

I tell Maria. This week, some light in the dining room ceiling went out, and it was one of those fancy foreign lights with bulbs no one has ever heard of. We need these lights, it’s a dim room without them, no natural light.

She’s the one who has a shelf full of tools. She’s the one who goes into the hardware store and talks to the salespeople. She’s the one who talks to the roofer and handyman when there are things too big or complicated for her to fix.

I’m just beginning to grasp the significance of this relationship on my life and the fear that used to torment me. I needed help but never knew how to get it. Now, it shares a bed and a life with me.

I’ve been thinking about my relationship with Maria – I often do – and I’ve had a revelation. Maria is making me stronger. I saw a strong person when I first met her, although she never thought of herself that way.

She was terrified and unsure of herself, and issues with her family tormented her. She didn’t think she could ever make a pot holder that people would buy.

I don’t  mean this in a cruel way, but I knew that when her mother died, she would feel sad, lighter, and more confident.

Sometimes, one can love people that are not good for them, as I have learned with my sister. The farther she got from her family, the stronger she became.

This shifted the dimensions of our relationship. We are both strong in many ways and fearful in others.

I felt I was more robust for years as she wrestled with various demons. Now, I see that has changed, and far from being threatened by having so strong a partner,

I see that this has been helpful for me in dealing with the issues that have plagued me, as I did for her.

I first argued that feminism was good for men; strong wives and spouses are suitable for their partners. Men are taught to bear impossible burdens and endure various pressures and responsibilities.

I have those feelings, but Maria’s emergence as the confident, open, and secure person she has become has been nothing but good for me.

I used to sweat out money issues alone, and the truth is, I am only beginning to be good at it.

When I panic about money, which happens regularly, I don’t hide that from her; I ask her about it, and we go over the money together. I don’t panic anymore.

I don’t have to hide this fear and be a strong or (stupid) man; I can share it with my partner and come to understand that we can figure it out and handle it together.

And we do. It’s not a weight I have to carry alone, and she is almost shockingly savvy about it, having run her own business for over a decade. As a writer and crazy person, I never learned how to handle money. I am learning now and without panic, shame, or grievance.

I have always wondered if I am testosterone-challenged, but now I am grateful for that not ashamed. Maria knows as much as I do about money, perhaps more. I didn’t need to hold this fear and confusion into myself and let it rot.

This money is only one example; I could offer a dozen. She does many of the things men usually do. It’s great. I do a lot of things women typically do. I’m better at that.

Not only do I love Maria, which is obvious, but she has also been great for me in many different ways. I draw from her strength, and she draws from mine.

We work together on the fear, taking turns helping one another. We are growing up together and in sync.

Seeing her hop up onto the dining room table this morning to figure out how to get that Norwegian bulb out of the fixture (she had to haul out a bunch of tools to do it), I sat at the table writing checks to pay some bills.

I reflected on how fortunate I am to have found her and how important it is in a marriage to shed the awful baggage of the testosterone-stuffed male and learn to listen, share, and give.

The confidence, strength, and wisdom I saw in her from the first has bloomed. She also got the help she needed, and discovered what I discovered – it helps. In my experience, the best relationships are the most equal;

I am happy to renounce the idea and pressure of the male strong man. Superman no longer works in 2023, women are finally refusing to put up with it, and intelligent men are finally stepping aside and losing their monopolies.

This morning, I thought that our system would function much better if Congress were composed of strong women.

I thanked the bright light from the ceiling for helping me figure out the bills this morning. She fixed it in a second.

Money will always be an issue for us; it comes with our work – and so do the great gifts a strong woman can give a partner.

This does not threaten or diminish me in any way; it helps me be more robust and open, and finally, it helps heal the fearful wounds of my early life.