Preface and Disclaimer: To appreciate this bit (maybe), you should know a couple of things.
I am not regarded as a male chauvinist. This fact, I hope, stands independently among those who know me. In addition, though, it may make some sense to you that when your job description has or does involve(d) routine changing of dirty dities, scrubbing the kitchen floor and hanging panty hose to dry, it is hard to be (or at least have credibility as) a chauvinist in any traditional sense.
You should further know that I am indecisive. (In my own defense, I prefer to think of it as meticulous consideration of all options.)
My wife and I were discussing something about Christmas plans regarding, in particular, my family (of origin). I was seeking her advice. She gave it. Then in my usual tiresome fashion I pointed out another factor that may change our course of action. She saw her out and took it, "Well, it's up to you. It's your family."
"I will make the final decision, of course. I just want your opinion," I countered, reluctant to let her off without more ad nauseam discourse on the matter. "I'm the man of the family, I'll make the decision whenever I want to . . . which is rarely," I firmly staked my claim.
My wife laughed. So I wrote it down. That's all I got.
For those of you who know me, you are not invited to goad me, in my moments of weakness, saying, "Come on. You're the man of the house. Make a decision, now!"
It won't work anyway.