How to flip my switch

Y’know what, competence is dead sexy.

I have been accused of being unromantic, of lacking sentimentality, such like, because on the top of my list of requirements for a husband was mechanical competence. I knew that it would be incredibly frustrating to have to wait for a repairman, or to try and restrain myself if he tried to fix something and made it worse. Restraint is not a strong character quality of mine.

And I found one! A competent man, that is. He ‘can fix everything but a broken heart or the crack of dawn’. you have NO idea how exciting it is, to me, to have a husband I can call and say “halpme!” and next thing you know, the airconditioner is disemboweled on the dining room floor, or the dishwasher, or the mysterious pipeworks surrounding the toilet, next thing you know there’s a car with parts scattered all over,greasy things are going on, curses or things like “cut loose, damn ye!” and “who the hell put that there?” and then BOOM, whatever it was,screeching air conditioner, peeing dishwasher, or mysterious pipeworks are all reassembled and working better than they were when brand new. Next thing you know that car that was barely hanging on is purring and getting twice the gas mileage AND the formerly tooky window rolls up *AND*down! Whatdayaknow!

And you know what? Competence is dead sexy. Sure, some women are attracted to a man who’s erudite and suave, some like well dressed men with clean (ick) hands and combed hair and a portfolio, and that’s a very good thing for those men, that there are women who are attracted to them. Some prefer a man who can sing or play the piano or dance with rythym and skill, and that’s ok too- I’m not knocking men who can dance, but dancing around the air conditioner when it’s 95 outside and the ceiling fans aren’t quite cutting it, is kind of…not where it’s at for me.

I remember the first time the light bulb went on in my head about Terry. The battery in my car was dead, and in the driveway at my then-boyfriend’s house. The boyfriend wanted to jumpstart the car, and had the jumper cables crossed. Me being a girl, he argued with me when I pointed it out, because, me being a girl, needed to understand that he, being a man, Knew More About These Things, and then he fused my battery terminals. Terry showed up on his white horse in his powder blue Beetle and not only fixed the fused battery with a nail file I dug out of the glove box, but tuned the engine with a screwdriver. My interest, combined with the piss-offedness with the boyfriend for calling me a helpless and ignorant female, definitely turned toward Terry.

And now? With the cool air blowing through the vents, no horrific screech, well…let’s just say my interest in Terry is definitely turning in his favor. Because, good people, competence is definitely verah verah sexxxxay.

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About rootietoot

I do what I can.
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2 Responses to How to flip my switch

  1. Elizabeth says:

    A mechanic with clean hand. Nothing under his finger nails. Either he doesn’t work or he works clean.

    Found out he worked clean and he still does.

    Hang tight and never let go of a – he can fix it- treasure.

  2. Bella Rum says:

    Truer words have never been spoken!

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