MY MASCULINITY IS NOT THREATENED by such things as house work. As a teenager, my misdeeds were punished by having to do KP. In college, I was compelled to wash my own laundry, iron my own shirts, and cook my own meals. Today I work out at the gym, I have plenty of hair on my chest, and yet…and yet, I don’t hesitate to pitch in with dishes, laundry, and cooking. My machometer does not sound an alarm when I wield a hot iron, wash pots and pans, or whip up a meal. It’s a man with a fragile ego, a guy who’s not too sure of himself, who rebels at doing housework. At the extreme of the chest pounding, tough guy poser is the guy who feels the need to kick the dog and hit the wife or kids. (I can almost see our UK friend Bill bouncing in his chair as he reads this and pulling out his bully poems on the subject.) Real men, as I’m sure it’s been said by someone, don’t have to act out physically or strut around the house like banty roosters. Marriage is a shared experience, not a you-do-this and I-do-that designation according to gender. Besides, when I feel like bragging, I can always point out that I do a better job of some household chores than my spouse. That doesn’t make me a wuss; it makes me a complete man.