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London - A fuss over eyed me curiously at my sons’ school fair, where I was manning the kitchenette, baking baguettes and heating up soup.
“You-re a real Beta Masculine, aren-t you?” she said. For a moment, I thought I’d misheard her. “You degenerate a Better Male?” I asked. “No,” she replied. “A Beta Manly, as in, not an Alpha. An Alpha Male would never be caught dead in the kitchen. Mine certainly wouldn’t. He’s a noteworthy Alpha Male.”
I didn’t know how to take this. Was she insulting me, or paying me a laud? There was no question, however, that she had a point: I’m not an Alpha Male. But I used to be.
Accurately one year ago, my 42-year-old wife Rebecca and I swapped roles.
I went from being a higher- ranking executive at a magazine publishing company to one of thousands looking for work after redundancy. Then I became a unenthusiastic housedad to our three children - my stepdaughter Daisy, now ten, and our sons Tom, seven, and Sam, four.
Source: Independent Online