Hello my darlings,
You know, there used to be a time when men were men. They’d do the heavy lifting and we’d make sure a red sock went nowhere near the white wash.
It’s come to my attention that women these days want a man who’s a dork. A nerd! A guy with razor rash. A guy with a bad haircut (if he has hair at all). Why? Well, it’s all that computernerdie Zuckergeek’s fault. There’s even a new name for this type of man – a technosexual! Who knew?
Not long ago we lusted after men in well fitted jeans, who wore tool belts hung like gunslingers and knew what to do with a spanner. Then there were men like David Hasselhoff, remember him?
I think it was the swimming trunks.
Then we went through the metrosexuals like The Gandy or James Bond – men who waxed, have a perfectly sculptured torso and had Ozwald Boetang’s cell number on speed dial. (Savile Row tailor).
Times, girls, have changed. And I must admit that we’ve felt that change in this house. Many moons ago, the break down of domestic chores went like this: I did the cleaning, cooking, gardening, grocery shopping, painting and decorating, looking after the children, organising after school activities, remembering the birthdays of every single relative. H, on the other hand, was chief recycler, anything to do with the cars, man who could pull the cord of the petrol lawnmower, and the man who intimidated teachers at parent’s evening. And main breadwinner. And it worked!
But now technology has come along to ‘make life easier.’ *Snort* Now, I can’t function if my computer/laptop/ipadmini goes down. And what’s with the TV remotes? Eh? With all those bloody trackers and menus how the hell are we supposed to work those? I have to get my son to show me the right button to get the news, again!
Now my repartee with H go like this:
Me: ‘Why won’t Gmail work?’
H: ‘Have you rebooted?’
Me: With an eye roll he can’t see. ‘Yep.’
Me: ‘Is the WiFi down?’
H: Deep sigh. ‘Let me check.’
Me: Screeching like an evil witch. ‘Now I have no signal!!!!!’
H: ‘For God’s sake woman, give it five minutes!’
And so it goes back and forth until I’m spitting nails at the Mac and showing big sharp teeth at anyone who crosses my path. It isn’t pretty. Of course, the smart thing to do would be to go down into the belly of the beast that lives in H’s study and work the WiFi myself. But I’m banned from the room because, ‘You cause chaos.’ And he’s right – he’s the techie, geeky guy (without razor rash) and I wouldn’t have it any other way. Men, girls, are genetically programmed to deal with this stuff, just like dealing with the trash!
I sincerely believe the basis of a good marriage, especially when life is full on, is to stick to what we’re good at.
So, do you have highly defined roles in your relationship?
Do you put out the trash or does he make fabulous lemon meringues?
You know I adore hearing from you guys!