I married my husband in large part because he was the tallest, best looking guy at Heroes the New Year’s Eve I met him – that he turned out to be a great guy was almost an afterthought.

I've learned the hard way that when you base your future happiness on the breadth of a man shoulders, you're probably going to get stuck with certain characteristics that are less prevalent in more refined men.

Being the burly type, my husband is practically incapable of taking a dirty dish to the sink. When I tried my hand at painting, his only observation was to make sure I didn’t plan on hanging my canvases in the lounge room “or anywhere else people might see them”.

When I was pregnant and got a bad haircut, he couldn’t console me but only asked, “What am I supposed to do? Lie and say I like it when I don’t?”

I might have tried divorcing him on the grounds of putting empty ice cube trays back into the freezer, only I'm pretty sure I'd never get that to fly with Reverend Andy down at St Andrews.

But it turns out my original instincts were spot on.

For one he has a natural ability to play just about every sport which means one of our kids still has the possibility of supporting me in my old age as a professional athlete. He can't kill our food, but he’s pulled out those hunter instincts in a cutthroat battle with the entire ant population of Khalifa B.

And then we bought our first barbeque grill.

My husband is definitely a caveman, but station him in front of an open flame and he can work magic with a nice cut of beef. His inner Cro-Magnon responds like the humming string of a violin.

As far as I’m concerned, any man who can grill tenderloin to perfection can empty all the ice cube trays he wants.

Laura Fulton