The Alpha Male

I just love men. I think they are an amazing species. Mind you, I am only talking about the strong, silent, “I’m-your-rock” alpha-male type, the ‘I’m-in-touch-with-my-feminine-side / weekly-mani-and-pedicure type can take the first train outtahere as far as I’m concerned, I’ll even spring for half the fare! No honestly, I just love real men, they are so wonderfully different. Their build all square and rough, hair growing in the most peculiar spots, heavy dark sounds from their vocal chords that, when uttered, seem to fill a room. The way they break out in a sweat when doing hard labour in the back yard, oh boy, that ignites a spark or two. Many-a-times I’ve been known to pour myself another coffee, pull up a chair just to watch, praying for the shirt to come off….
A good night out is watching them drink, mates together, pouring jugs of beer down their throats, loud roars of laughter and friendly pats on shoulders, while testosterone just oozes out of their every pore.

But what I love and admire most of all, is their in-bread knowledge of fixing things.
Seriously, it must be strongly embedded in their DNA, I am sure if any scientist could extract the correct cell out of that particular string, the rest of us anti-technos could be vaccinated in early adulthood and have an IKEA-proof life ever after.
As the happy partner of an Alpha-Male original, I get to witness this technical instinct on an almost daily basis and we ain’t talking just changing light bulbs, oh no. Car don’t start? He opens the hood, pokes a screwdriver between a few cables and presto, I’m of to work. Plumbing shot? Armed with his tool belt, ankle deep in yesterday’s bathwater, probably from our upstairs neighbours, he attacks. 2 Hours and some heavy cursing later, voila, I can do my dishes again. Truly amazing.

Now, all women partnered with such an original specimen should be happy and grateful, as I am. However, sometimes, probably stress induced, this fixing instinct works too fast. A few months ago we had to have some electrical rewiring done in our bedroom. My dearest jumped up, immediately ready to tackle this problem. As some drilling was involved and the only working electrical socket was under our bed, he needed an extra extension cord. Frantically I went through every possible cupboard trying to find one, but no luck. It wasn’t a big problem he assured me, he would just quickly make one. I was in awe. He worked with bits of wire, screwdrivers and
what –ya-ma-call-its for a few minutes and with a quick wink to me dove under the bed to plug his new cord in. Two seconds and a big bang later the house was powerless. While rambling on in my well known smartypants-way that something must be wrong cause the tv and the washing machine went off simultaneously, he slowly emerged from under the bed. Face flushed, hair straight up, he showed me with trembling hands his extension cord. A 2 meter piece of white wire with no sockets, just pretty white plugs… on either side. I had to strain my ears a bit as he whispered: “Good thing I tested this, honey, it could have killed you!”
The alpha-male, serves and protects.