He makes it known, beyond a doubt, that he is far from okay and that any normal duties will surely send him to his death bed.
And we long suffering partners sympathise, tending to their every whim with Milk of Magnesia, Annadin and Pepto Bismol - if only to simulate his mother's nurturing warmth once upon a time.
What he doesn't know is, that the only reason we do it is out of sheer smugness that we could do so much better under the given circumstances.
Perhaps I'm generalising, but most working dads - regardless of whether mum is working - suffer from severe 'poor me' syndrome within the confines of their own home.
Mum could be run ragged with glandular fever but is still expected to deliver great home-cooked meals, ensure the washing's up-to-date and deliver top notch blow jobs regardless whether or not she's at death's door.
Don't get me wrong, I'm not playing the world's smallest violin here but feeling empowered by all the things great women can do.
It's testament to our ability and fantastical capacity to put others before ourselves, of which I don't feel ashamed or devalued by.
Maybe we need to face facts that there were always sexual differences between Adam and Eve and thank god or we wouldn't be where we are now.
