Sunday Newscape Magazine

I like men. No wait. I love men. I enjoy having them around the house, around me; I like their bigness, their presence, so lately I’ve been doing a lot of reflecting on my “single” status. While some of it is enjoyable, I do have to say there are quite a few things I miss about having a man in the house. Oh don’t get me wrong. I don’t want that man - you know, the one who left me for one of my ex-best friends. I just miss…men.

I miss having someone to kill the big bugs. Oh, I’m not talking about the little spiders that you can fling your shoe at and leave a smudge on the wall. I’m talking about the ones that show up in the shower in the middle of the night, are as big as your fist, and scare the bejesus out of you. A nice man will always come to the aid of a damsel in distress during these times - usually carrying a big shoe, but still, ready to kill the monstrosity taking up residence in the tub.

There is something to be said about having a man around to change the oil in my car. Right after my ex left me, the car immediately demanded the oil be changed. Every time I got in the car, the message of doom would appear: Oil Change Required. Required. I kept expecting my car to give me a delinquent notice. I actually started to feel guilty. I mean, I have no idea how to change the oil - didn’t the car know that the ex was gone? That I had no means by which to do this task it was requiring of me? Luckily my wonderful neighbor, Todd, does know how to do this mission, and gladly rescued me. Whew!

I’ve found that some men actually like to clean. Or if they don’t like to, when they are married to you, they can gently be coerced into it. I hate to do the dishes. Always have. I miss a man who will do the dishes for me. It really eases up the work load around the house. I need me a man who will come over and do my dishes.

Cuddling. I truly miss having someone to cuddle with. Today is rainy and gloomy. It’s not a nice day. I need a man to cuddle with me, watch movies with, and bring me hot chocolate…sigh.

Men are great for other things to…like, in the bedroom. Enough said.

I adore a man who will massage my back. Writing causes the back muscles to strain, and a good rubdown never hurts. My back muscles also seem not to have received the memo stating the ex bolted, for they are tense and giving me grief. Yes, I could go to a massage therapist. Wait, no I can’t; I don’t have any money.

Which leads me to my next part about men that I do adore. That they pay for things. I won’t apologize for this; I love it when a man pays. It makes me feel special. It says, “Hey, you’re worth spending time with.” Or “You’re important enough for me to take out to dinner.” And my personal favorite: “Hey, you look hungry, have a steak on me.” Yes, I do love me a man who pays. I’m not a feminist either. I don’t believe in all that “women should pay their own way” stuff.

Speaking of feminism, I miss having a man get my doors for me. Like I said, I’m not into all that “let me do it myself” garbage. I adore when a man opens my car door for me, waits for me to get in, and then closes it. I know, not very modern of me, but I’m a traditional gal…you know, believes men should pick up the tab, get doors, not leave their wives…that sort of thing. Yup, that’s me, old fashioned.

Companionship is something I really long for; it’s the hardest thing to do without. I like to laugh with men, talk with them. As I said, I adore men. I miss intelligent conversation (though, it’s not like I had A LOT of that), having someone to talk about my day with, a person who can empathize a situation I’m going through, or just being able to pick up the phone when I’m having a rough time, and saying, “I’m having a rough time,” and know there will be a man on the other end who cares.

I’m not bitter about my situation. A woman said to me this week, “Bitter much, Vanessa?” when I was expressing a certain view point about my ex and the male species in general. I turned to her and said, “No, I’m not bitter. My ex left me three months ago. I think I have the right to be angry.” The exchange didn’t bother me. What is upsetting is that I didn’t have anyone to talk with about it after: Someone who would have made a funny comment to make me laugh, or would have taken my side, or whatever it is that people do or say when they care about each other.

Yes, I miss having a man about the house. I miss the bug killing, oil changing, dinner buying, snuggling, sex-giving, companionship that comes with muscles and a deep voice. I don’t miss my ex. I don’t even love him anymore. What is the most difficult now is the search for my new companion - that other person out there who will be all these things to me and more. I miss that person. The one I haven’t even met yet.