Am I Protecting You or Just Looking for a Reason to Feel Useful?

It started small.
She opened a pickle jar.
With one hand.
While holding her phone.

I stood there, uninvited, holding a kitchen towel like a rejected superhero, watching my last known utility in the modern world slip through her confident grip.

“Need help?” I offered, voice trembling slightly.
“Nope, all good!”
Translation: You are now purely ornamental.

For generations, men were forged in usefulness. We lifted heavy things. We reached high shelves. We fought bears, wars, and drywall. We were needed — not for our personalities, but for our torque.

Now? She’s got an ergonomic tool set and a chiropractor. I’m just a backup driver with a beard.

The truth is, I haven’t protected anyone from anything in years — except maybe from reading the group chat too closely.

Last week, she killed a spider without even narrating it. Didn’t call for me. Didn’t shriek. Just “handled it.”
I mourned in silence. That spider was the last thing standing between me and total domestic redundancy.

And it’s not just her. Society has conspired to make me obsolete.
Automatic lawnmowers. Grocery delivery. Emotional literacy.

I used to fix things. Now I troubleshoot HDMI cables and pretend I’m “giving her space,” which mostly involves sitting in the garage Googling “what is my role in a modern relationship” while holding a power drill for comfort.

Look, I’m not saying I want danger in the house.
I’m just saying I’d like to be asked to lift something heavy once in a while so I don’t start investing in tactical flashlights out of pure identity drift.