I just spent the last two hours of my life trying to unclog my toilet.
No, the clog isn't a result of a massive dump taken. I have a very old apartment... cute, adorable, quirky and lovable... but very old. And it has a very old, very iffy toilet in it's very old, very outdated bathroom.
Needless to say, after two hours of tirelessly plunging... my toilet is still very old... and very clogged.
It is during times like these in my life that I wish I had a male companion the most. I wish I had a boyfriend now, more than ever, to unclog my godforsaken, rickety, teal-colored toilet... and then maybe he could hold me and we could just cuddle and lie there when he was through.
They say that when you are dating, you are attracted to features that your mother or father possessed while they were raising you. Although, this Freudian hypothesis is undoubtedly creepy as hell to me, I do find it to be universally correct.
Looking back on my childhood, I realize that my father was a literal "Jack of Trades". His nickname is Jack, that's why it's literal. Stick with me.
My dad cooked the food, cleaned the house, squished the bugs, fixed the leak, raked the leaves, worked the job, packed the lunch, nailed the drywall, talked the talk, and walked the walk.
Don't get me wrong, my mother is a very awesome lady. She is steadfast, moral, trustworthy, reliable, firm, hardworking, giving, and extremely intelligent. She just doesn't like to cook. Or clean. But, my father will be the first to tell you that he would be dead or in jail, if it wasn't for her.
Basically, my parents are the kind of people who did, and continue to do, whatever it takes to survive, without a grimace or complaint. And they do it together.
Growing up with such a powerful, ready-and-able couple, both of my parents felt it was very important that I learn life skills at an early age, so that I would never have to be dependent on anyone for anything. Anytime there was something wrong with my car, my dad made me come outside and watch him fix it... even in the blistering cold and pouring rain. Anytime, I fudged my finances, my mother made me sit down with her and look at where I went wrong and what I should do in the future to prevent it from happening again.
For all of this and more, I am so grateful. I am not a girl who is scared to kill spiders. I know how to unjam a garbage disposal. I can replace most fluids in my car. I know the proper way to paint a wall. I can bake a mean batch of chocolate chip cookies. I rarely need a knight in shining armor to come to my rescue.
For one reason or another, I suck at unclogging toilets. This is EXTREMELY frustrating to me. I am the kind of person that figures out ways to get the job done, even if it isn't necessarily the same way that everyone else does it.
But, unlike eating reese cups, I really think there is only one way to unclog a toilet. And it is a mythical mystery, in a far away distant fantasy land, one that I fear I will never travel to and discover.
This admission troubles me on multiple counts.
First: What kind of nancy sissy baby of a female can't unclog a toilet? It seems as though it's pretty self explanatory... just keep plunging until the flush flushes freely.
Second: I hate asking for help. I hate admitting that I need someone. My generation of females has been taught to behave as though we can do anything and everything that a man can do, and sometimes we can do it better. I know more girls that can change a tire than I do guys. It used to be that women were looked down upon if they didn't behave like a lady and now the most respected women curse like sailors while smoking Marlboro Reds. We no longer have to wait for a man to call and ask us on a date, if we want him, we have no other option but to be assertive and go get him.
Third: I want a man who knows how to work his plunger! (Please giggle at the potential dirtiness of that last sentence.) A man who doesn't scream if he sees a mouse in the house. A man who will let me squeeze the living willies out of his hand when I have to get a shot during a doctor's visit. Does such a man exist anymore?! I know how to do MANY difficult and distasteful tasks in life that are necessary for my survival, but that doesn't mean that when I am with someone, I want to be the man of the house. Of course, I enjoy being a handy woman, but I also enjoy curling my hair, painting my nails, listening to Mariah Carey, and crying throughout the entire ending scene of "An Affair To Remember" and I won't have time for any of those things if I'm always taking out the garbage and hooking up the cable box.
This is all well and good, but I just wonder what happens when we regress back to history's past ways of girlishness and want to be taken care of for a change. Will we begin wearing unbearable petticoats and take to fainting on chaise lounge chairs? Does needing a male companion make us any less of a strong female? Do we lose all sense of independence once we let someone into our lives? Is it okay for us to believe that we cannot do it all? Or is it at that very moment, that we lose the sacred womanly strength we once possessed?
I cannot answer any of those questions at this point in my life. One day in the very distant future, I may have that ability. All I'm saying is, after today, I'm adding "Knows how to unclog a toilet" to my list of dating qualifications and there isn't an ounce of energy left in my ever-loving plunging body that will admit to being ashamed of that.