Hey guys!
Happy February to you. It’s my birthday and I turn 26 in a few hours so this month, you get not one, but two newsletters just because I’m a generous king? I was recently talking to someone about me and birthdays. I’m always excited about them before the D-day and then it comes, and I’m like meh. It’s kind of the same feeling this year.
25 was a good year. I did great work that I’m proud of this year, got opportunities available to me that I’m thankful for. I fucked shit up, shit fucked me up too. It was a year of you’re not so young but you’re not so old either. 26 seems old.
I cannot believe I know people who are actually under 26. Like why? I’m so used to being the youngest everywhere so when I see them, I’m like “oh look at you, young and enjoying life”. 26 means I’m like 4 years close to being 30+ (hahaha, my 30+ friends may not let me hear the last of this)
As 26 approaches, I’m finding out that I wouldn’t mind being a house husband. It’s almost a common cliche because I’ve said it all the time and it appears on my Tinder bio all the time but whenever I say it, I actually mean it. I want to get married and sit down, watch Netflix all day and worry about what to eat.
To start with, I’ve never always held this school of thought. When I was much younger, I would read stories about billionaires who had their sons and daughters take over their companies as CEOs or top management positions while they took a step back, or two most times. And for me, the big question was ‘why’? It just seemed so weird. What would they be doing? Why would they decide that it was time to go and rest? What would the switch look like? From waking up, having a power breakfast and being driven to meetings that decided the future to staying in much longer, having brunch instead and probably gardening?
At that time, I decided that I was going to work for a really long period of time, so far there are no health conditions. I would be in charge of my companies (if I had any) and have my children (if I had any) probably work within the company but reporting to me. Every time, I think of this today, I laugh - again because I think it is so funny.
Today, it is so interesting how things have shifted because I think I’m fully ready to be a house husband. I remember saying that to someone on Tinder one time, very seriously and this person who realised I wasn’t joking went on a long mission to educate me about how I’ll need to contribute to the upkeep and all. Am I really tired? Not really. I just imagine that my life would be a lot interesting if I was a house husband. Think of this Zikoko Naira Life story here? Yes, that’s my mission.
It’ll be so interesting and I have it planned out, or something like that. I’m not exactly a morning person, so I’ll most likely wake up after my partner has gone to work, and then have a cup of coffee - a latte to be specific. I’m also realising that I don’t like chores, but if that’s the prize I have to pay for being a house husband, I honestly won’t mind. But then again, anyone who’s marrying me to be a house husband will most likely be rich so who does the house chores really isn’t my biggest issue right now. I’ll ensure that the house is clean, in this case, going through the entire place and feeling the surface - playful like Fraulein Maria but as strict as Captain Von Trapp. Then, I’ll catch up on Twitter for about thirty minutes and switch to the burner account where I write about being a house husband or make it spicy by calling myself a sugar baby who has the mumu button of their glucose guardian. I’ll then have a shower, maybe catch up on the news and then think of what to watch on Netflix. Once that’s settled, I’ll sit in and enjoy some good laughs until I figure that I’m hungry and then get lunch made. Repeat the Netflix and then shower because it’s almost 4 and I won’t want to be a mess when the owner of my head comes in.
I mean, an internet list of how to be a househusband says I have to be attractive and be loving and I can try to do that. I’ll be attentive and listen, and be the neck while doing everything for the head.
In a sane world, I’ll be a house husband but we’re not, so I’m here typing this article and looking out for my next job.
This plan didn’t happen at 25, let’s see whether 26 is that year for me. Until then, it’s love and light.
Obviously still accepting gifts
Love,
Franklin.