Bedside manners

Every time I have a mopey moment about being a single gal, I only need to pep myself up with recollections of a few of my relationship disasters over the past years and reassure myself I really am better off.  Why I get so stuck on the idea of a man to help around the house is just plain daft considering I have a well-stocked toolbox (complete with micro screwdriver set) and can always remember to charge the batteries for my electric drill, well ahead of needing to use it.

Some of my girlfriends refer to me fondly as their 'hire-a-honey', and acknowledge  I have replaced a significant portion of their extant, meaningful and long term relationships: the portion where their males' can do attitude kicks in to make the world a better place; the portion full of handyman nous and all manner of gizmos and gadgets to combat tedious tasks as if they’re living a Mr Sheen TV ad; the portion of the relationship where the word nagging doesn't exist because 'Mr' is always two paces ahead in his pro-activity and smiley can-do attitude; Yes… that portion of the relationship that seems to be a distant, blurry, fading sunset of a memory for the poor girls – just like the surprise, sexy escape to Bali HE planned way back towards the end of 1999, albeit provoked by the panic of the millennium bug potentially disrupting all the international air travel to blow his only chance of getting in on the best surf breaks this side of the South China Sea before the season closed!!!! 

(ah-hem)  As I was saying...

As a regular house guest of BBQs, brunches, dinners and sun-downers, I've been known to readjust sliding shower screens back in alignment when I use the bathroom amenities. I have reattached the tap head sitting in the soap dish for at least 6 months of visits (but who’s counting?). I've scrounged for the odd bread and butter knife to tighten the screws of kitchen cupboard handles as I help prepare the antipasto. And of course I've sleuthed my way through the dark and dank spider ridden laundry shelves to find the WD-40 in order to exorcise the bloodthirsty and spine-tingling screech of balcony screen door on my way back inside to collect another bottle of bubbles for the party.  

(If you find yourself this particular scenario, I highly recommend discretely making a point to the lazy host by loudly inquiring across the whole room “more ‘lubrication’ anyone?” as you pop the champagne loudly in their face, displaying the oil can prominently under your arm ….)

Ah-hem. I think you get my point by now?

Even with my energetic where-with-all and wits about me as a general rule I hate to admit, I hit a real conundrum last month. When my 3 step ladder couldn't reach the lofty ceilings in my bedroom to change the light bulb I had to resort to asking my new (male) neighbour for help.

Just a handy hint to all you resourceful ladies out there - Here's a few things you should NOT mention as part of ANY conversation if you want to uphold a semblance of post-feminist, independent, modern-woman qualities.

1.     I need some assistance in my bedroom

2.     No – it’s not screwing in my bed – I already did that last weekend

3.     Yes, erecting a tall one would be good

4.     I have all the equipment ready to go upstairs

5.     I’m sure it will take more than 5 minutes because of all the weird angles

6.     I’m prepared for the screw variety if we need it

7.     So while you’re here and have it up, can we move to the spare bedroom?

My advice is plain and simple - just borrow the ladder!

No matter how heavy or unwieldy it is, lug it away as if it’s light as a feather, smile through gritted teeth if necessary but do not, under any circumstances, request assistance even at this point. Then, invite a girlfriend over for a glass of wine while you change the light bulbs yourselves and promptly return the ladder the same day you borrowed it, exclaiming a simple “thanks mate”. Do not, I repeat, do NOT embellish any thanks with “I’ll return the favour soon” or the like – even the simplest pleasantries could be misconstrued as titillations and penetrate you deep, deep, deep into innuendo.

I guess my girlfriends CAN attest that a man about the house is useful. I will henceforth acknowledge that men's skills in erecting, drilling and screwing things is certainly their favourite pastime and should be celebrated. Just remember all men's 'handiwork' doesn't necessarily materialise in a new back fence or better water pressure in the shower.