Today's treeware column pretty much speaks for itself but, because I only get 600 words, I have to add more.
Which I do.
Like you could shut me up anyway.
It started off as a summer romp. Today, exactly, it's a three-year relationship.
Who would have thought Bad-On-Paper-Guy would have turned out to be Mr. Right?
Sure
we don't agree on much – from George W. Bush to abortion rights – but
he makes me laugh and he keeps my plumbing in good working order.
And that would be all my plumbing, including the new laundry room sink he installed and the basement kitchen he is renovating.
As
some women love the smell of babies and some men that new car smell,
for me the scent of a man who fixes things – if not with a hammer, then
with a cheque or a strong arm – is intoxicating.
And men do love to fix things don't they? Tell them you have a headache and they'll look around for a brain surgery tool kit.
I do love a man who is good with his hands.
Now, before I go on, I must say that I have received four emails likening me to a golddigger and a user because they read the above to mean that I only have men around to unclog my drains.
Uh, no. I write for a family newspaper. So, sometimes a ballcock assembly is not just a ballcock assembly, if you get my drift.
And the smart ones do.
In fact, I love men period.
My dad and my uncles – all gone now – who understood that powerful women made men stronger.
My
neighbour guys who happily climb ladders to change a light bulb or
replace the barbecue propane tank, two tasks I am too scared to do on
my own.
My brother, George (above right, with me), who grew up in a houseful of estrogen
only to end up with two daughters and a wife who is now an exec at a
huge Canadian corporation.
My personal trainer, Sebastien Rahman,
who, during a recent health crisis, came over every day to carry the
60-kilogram oxygen tanks up and down the stairs for me and to make sure
I was okay.
My "boys" at the Star, including senior editor John Ferri, reporter Sandro Contenta and editorial writer Martin Regg Cohn, who always have my back. (That's them, below left.)
Oh hell, I'll even throw in my ex-husbands.
The list is long.
It also includes all the supportive guys to whom I regularly link, including those at StageLeft, Dawg's Blawg, Canadian Cynic, Pogge, The Galloping Beaver, MyBlahg and BastardLogic.The cool guys I have met online via Facebook and Twitter, and with whom I have formed political alliances. The teenaged boys on the street whose secrets I keep (Let me tell you, if you want to know what your kids are up to, ask a neighbour who works from home.) My brothers-in-law. And, last but not least, my (technically ex-) stepson Laurence. And on. And on.
Of
course, even good men have their flaws. Chief among them, complain my
friends, is their inability to express their emotions. Which has always
confounded me since men have written the most heart-wrenching love
songs. (If you want to know how a guy is feeling, listen to what he's
playing.)
But they're so easy to please. As one male friend
advises, all men really want is "Food, sex, praise, and not necessarily
in that order."
The truth is, men just want to make their women
happy, to be good providers and protectors, and to be the boss of the
remote control.
And what is the point of my noting this?
Well,
Wednesday night, the guy, who shall remain anonymous because, as I have
learned from past experience, the crazies out there will seize anything
to trash me online, said he was concerned.
Concerned that my
constant columnizing on women's rights might create the wrong
impression: that I am a man-hater, and as misandric as the misogynists
I write about.
No doubt, judging from the comments the goderators of my blog leave unpublished and some of my email.
Said
my guy: "I am not saying what you write is not correct on a factual
basis. I am saying, nobody likes having the truth shoved down their
throats, especially men. Most guys, me included, would gladly die protecting any woman. I think that makes us much more than female haters/bashers/rapists/oppressors."
Agreed.
Over
the past two weeks, in the wake of the assassination of Dr. George
Tiller, I received more emails of support from men than from women, men
such as the "56-year-old white male retired Toronto police officer" who
yesterday thanked me for my columns.
So here's to you sir, to the guys who get it, and to all the men in my life, past and present and, I hope, future.
(Happy anniversary, Babe!)
UPPITY WOMAN DATE: Almost forgot. About the hate mail. You would be stunned if you could see how many of these misogynists claim that I ''hate men'' because my father ''abused me'' when I was young, or ''some man did something bad'' to me.
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