Another Post to Make My Mother Roll Over in Her Grave

Avert your feminist gaze.

I feel such gratitude that men exist. I like to be saved. I like it when someone, man or woman, holds a door open. I like that I can appear hesitant about some physical task, and someone swoops in to address it. I like that I can declare "Blue job!", and Jason takes over.

Tonight, I got a flat tire en route to ballet. I had the owners manual, figuring out where to put the jack. I had the spare. I can definitely change a tire. Still, my heart fluttered with relief when a man stopped and offered to take over. He did it in five minutes; I had already spent that long perusing the owners' manual. On the VW, the tire has to be held up in order to put the lugs in. I could have managed this with a little help from Phaedra, but this fellow had the upper body strength to mostly manage it himself. I just steadied the tire. Really, five minutes, and he was gone.

I think I do plenty of tasks that are "traditionally" masculine to be excused this attitude. I do not need to bristle when a guy offers to help me, I just need to remember I CAN do these things myself. Then, I can step aside and be rescued.