Man Points

I am not a man.

I can't change a plug so does that make me an embarrassment to my gender? 

Most men would say yes. Probably women too.

Last week I caught a splinter in my finger moving a table in work. A jagged point had pierced my flesh and in the hours to come, my pride. If my memory serves me, and it tends not to, my last splinter was almost 10 years ago which was way back in the 'parentasoid' era where my mum would easily retrieve it with minimal fuss and ease. This time I was on my own. I tried the techniques I remembered but I knew I wasn't giving it my all. I was defeated and needed sympathy that no real man would knowingly search for. It became a sword in the stone round-robin of ideas from colleagues which all proved futile and embarrassing. I had already daydreamed of walking my daughter down the aisle on her wedding day and her hand was squeezing against my 20 year old splinter that I had yet to remove. Twelve hours later, I had successfully managed to squeeze it out but I suspect that time had played its part and nature had made it easy for me and dealt me a pass.

This isn't the only reason I feel like I am a disgrace to the world of men. I have never changed a tyre, fixed a boiler or put a hinge on a door. All my man experiences are 21st Century examples such as installing software, fixing network connections or removing a firewall.

At work, my man morale is further dampened by a colleague of mine that comments on my lack of 'Man Points.'

Man points can be accrued by tasks such as fuse changes, identifying pipes or eating hot curries but if it were a football team, I would be the Bristol Rovers of man points, you may have heard of them but it's safe to assume they're not good. The fact that this same man calls me "GayJ", to resemble my initials of AJ, must be a resulting factor in my inability to score these illustrious points in any masculine fashion.

Even at home, I'm surrounded by DIY  know it alls. My grandad in law has a tool for any job, a manual for any appliance  and a solution to every problem. These life lessons have simply passed me by and I only have myself to blame.

So what do I do? Keep shying away from  dowels, screws and washers or fight back and smear oil over some old jeans and go proper method?

Answers on a postcard, although be aware that the letterbox is quite stiff and I don't know how to oil it.

Adam Yates