I need a man

There I said it. It is hurting my tender female ego to say it, but I have just discovered that I do indeed need a man. Not 'want a man' but indeed need one. It's devastating to me, but it's the plain truth. A few hours ago it was so obvious to me and as much as I tried to convince myself otherwise, it was becoming more and more evident with each passing moment.

Much like the Borg from Star Trek The Next Generation - Do not try to resist. Resistance is futile.

What brought on this blatant disregard for feminism? It was when I stepped out, intent on getting a few things done before the Riders win the Grey Cup (positive thinking, people, positive thinking...) The first task was to shovel the walk, and as I laboured away (food for thought - when buying a house and you think 'oh, wouldn't it be nice to have a double garage and the matching driveway, and oh, isn't it nice to have double front doors and the matching stairs...think about the shovelling...Are you seeing it? Not so nice now, is it?)

Back to my aching back...the driveway was packed. I had procrastinated and thought - this won't be so bad, I have the supplies: icepick, shovel, snowboots, mittens and the will to get'er done...but as I flexed and pushed, struggled and panted, I realized that it would be so much better if someone else was doing it...where were those annoying kids from last year who came to my door every week offering to shovel my snow for $20? I would hire you now - and maybe even give you more!!... but no matter how much i struggled, there was no getting around it.
I needed a man.

Sure, there's been times when I thought it would be nice to have a man - cuddle up and watch a movie with, someone to kiss, someone to dine with, go for walks with, and just spend romantic moments with - but this, this was different. This was a NEED - like water, shelter, food. I bloody well NEEDED someone to finish shovelling my driveway.

Thankfully, I didn't break into a full out panic and attack the man from across the street. I thought about it, but his wife already hates me for talking to him the other day (you should have seen the glares)...yes, I am now the single vixen in our lane. Anyway, as I eyed him, in my panic-driven, back-aching state, it came to me suddenly, and then I calmly put down the shovel, assumed a maidenly pose, took off my toque, gave my hair a model-type toss - letting the curly tresses cascade down my back...then turned back toward my house, opened the door and called my still-snoozing 20-year old son: "honey, mommy needs your help..." No more shovelling for me.
Then I smirked - triumphant at last. I HAVE a man. Necessity acquired.