My sister Holly, contemplating a return to the proverbial dating meat market, wasn’t convinced it was worth it. “I don’t get lonely,” she said. “I kind of like my own company. I can figure out and do most everything. Why do I need to open myself up to more grief and heartache?”
I was trying to come up with a reason. Before saying anything, I pictured a scene from earlier that morning. I’d received a large cardboard box from some found website via FedEx, an order of TV trays to facilitate Couponman’s and my new empty-nester eating habits. “I’m figuring the taxes on the computer,” I groaned. “You can assemble the T-frame stand for holding the stacked trays.”
There were less than a dozen screws, all the same size. He couldn’t get into too much trouble with those odds. “Penny,” shouted Couponman within minutes, “I need help.” I walked in and saw eight wooden pieces strewn over the carpet. “I can’t figure it out,” he exclaimed.
“Where’s the instructions?” I asked.
“It comes with directions?” he answered back with a question. I pulled a diagram from of the box.
“What kind of screwdriver fits these screws?” he asked. I took a peek at the head of one of the screws.
“It requires an Allen wrench.” He looked more confused.
Taxes were calling my name from the other room and I was stuck screwing together a TV tray holder. “If I ever get married again,” I chuckled, “I’m going to give a skills test.”
“You didn’t think I was fixing your breakfast in the morning for free?” he lauged.
My thoughts were interrupted by my sister’s voice. “Except for cars.” We were back in her dilemma. “I hate taking care of cars. It would be nice to have someone else responsible for repairs.”
Yep, I thought, taking cars in and wondering if you are being ripped off is a pretty big deal when you are single. Couponman takes care of the cars for both of us so I don’t think much about it. And, even better, he always brings back a shiny clean car and a treat for me from the carwash.
“Do you think mechanics have their own dating service?” Holly fantasized. “I just love a man who has grease under his fingernails.”
Wow, that was the one thing I avoided like the plague when I was looking so many years ago. I could’ve had my car fixed for free had I looked in the right circles. “What would you do differently if you had the chance?” Holly asked.
I laughed, then I sighed. “I’m not that much smarter,” I confessed, knowing a hot breakfast every morning carries a lot of weight. “I’d probably do things exactly the same way.”
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This was cute but in all seriousness, there is a book called “The Female Brain” that has shown that women who lose their husbands later in life are much less eager to get married then men who lose their wives. The book says that most of us are happy to finally get to the point where we only take care of ourselves. Men are still looking for a caretaker.
That book must have been written by a woman. . . who ALWAYS had trouble getting a date.