It was a regular night. I cooked dinner early so I could finish a story I was writing and fed the cats. Had a shower, put on my jammies and went into the spare room to get my dressing gown. One cat was chasing the other and bumped the door and it closed.
It did not slam, it did not make a bad noise. And yet as I turned the handle nothing happened, turn, turn, turn and then a clunk as the handle came away on the other side of the door. “Ohhhh, that doesn’t sound good,” I thought.
Having the phone on me, I called my partner who lives elsewhere. But he didn’t answer. I called again, I texted, He’s the only other person with the key to the door. My daughter and a close girlfriend are both abroad. I realised with a shock that he may be asleep given his current gruelling work schedule. He turns off his phone to sleep.
“OK”, I thought, “don’t panic”. Easy enough to say but I suffer mild claustrophobia. I also have a florid imagination for catastrophes and as I fumbled with the handle I imagined a fire (the windows have safety grills). I’m a fan of horror but suddenly I wondered if I was in The Conjuring 2 and soon I’d see a moving handle.
Finally, I got hold of my partner’s son, who drove home from work to wake his dad, and after three horrible hours with me running around looking for something suitable to pee in if it got to that (a drawer?), my beloved was at the broken door.
Mini screwdrivers, Allen keys, a credit card were passed under the door, with both of us trying to remember Hollywood lock-picking scenes. Another hour went by. It was now 1am, too late for a locksmith and we had decimated the lock anyway. According to Himself who had studied engineering, it was not openable.
“Two choices” he said in a manly voice. “You call a 24-hour locksmith and pay a minimum $250 call-out fee. Or I break down the door and you’ll have a small part of the frame to replace, which will be cheaper.” I thought of my bladder. A former martial arts practitioner, he assured me: “I will be precise. I have a manoeuvre which will cause very little damage.” Sounded good to me.
I sat on the bed holding the cat, I heard him say “I’ve always wanted to break down a door” and then BANG! BOOM! (think cartoon bubbles) ZAP! Wood went flying everywhere, large shards, planks, and out of the dust he came, my hero, tall and proud, pulling me out of the rubble like a damsel being rescued by her prince. I noticed that despite him having the “precise manoeuvre” of an earthquake, the whole Batman thing had turned me on.
It was a Hero opportunity for him in this Metrosexual world where men wear suits, blow-dry their hair, and so rarely in a domestic setting have a chance to save the day. It’s sexy for them to do it, and sexy for us to watch the domestic warrior in action — even a hardcore feminist like me who actually knows how to use an axe.
The truth is out there. Women still love blokes. Fire fighters appear in calendars as sex symbols for female fantasies — many of us girls go weak at the knees at the sight of men from Emergency Services weathering the storm to lift trees off powerlines, and drag people from flooding cars.
It’s pure animal instinct, a biological urge to be protected and have our offspring protected by the Alpha male who breaks down doors. I wanted to mate with him right then and there amid the spoils of his great and victorious battle. Sadly, as he wrapped his strong arms around me there was only one urge I needed to satisfy … “Toilet!”
Interesting column, but how does this stack up in our (supposedly) gender blind world? Does this column and columns like it re-enforce stereotypes? If the story were written around attractive women and mate selection of females for child bearing potential, would it has been OK?
What does this kind of writing say to our young men about their value and the value of their chosen occupations or roles in society?
Having said that, it was a well crafted piece that I enjoyed reading!
Next time get your hunk to put the handle that fell off back on.
Then open the intact door.
A smart alpha male would do that and then maneuver from there.
@Egil Laughing. OK, now I’ve stopped.
@Egil Manoeuvre for what? Without an explosive demonstration of raw physical power, it seems unlikely he would get any action.
@Egil Maybe he already thought of that and knew it would lead to … nothing.