So those of you who follow me on twitter might have seen my tweets about my shopping excursion last night. If you missed it, I tweeted that I was on my way to buy some adjustable weights to step up my workout life. Not to go too wildly off-track, but the thing about these weights is that they adjust from 5-25 lbs so if you are a girl like me, they're really all you need for whatever workout you might be doing.
So those of you who follow me on twitter might have seen my tweets about my shopping excursion last night. If you missed it, I tweeted that I was on my way to buy some adjustable weights to step up my workout life. Not to go too wildly off-track, but the thing about these weights is that they adjust from 5-25 lbs so if you are a girl like me, they’re really all you need for whatever workout you might be doing.
The other thing about these weights though is that, between the weights themselves, the plate they rest in, and the box they come in, the shits are heavy as…well as shit. And I had to buy two of them. And though I may be a workout junkie, carrying 50+ pounds of weight home is kind of a problem.
Through a complicated dance of carrying them one at a time from the checkout to the sidewalk, then carrying one while pushing the other with my foot to get them to the side of the road, hailing a cab and heaving them in one by one, I managed to get them home. Lugging them one at a time into the lobby of my building and then repeating the carry/push combo, I managed to get them up to my apartment.
Lord almighty buying those weights was a workout in and of itself.
The thing is though that I have no shortage of friends I could have asked to help me. As a matter of fact, one of my most favourite people lives all of 30-seconds from the store and probably would have been more than happy to run out and help me carry them into a cab. I thought hard about asking him to help me, but I refused to do it because to ask for help would be to admit that I needed help.
This is nothing new. At least once a week I’m in the grocery store with a case of water, a couple of loaves of bread, boxes of Crystal Light, and various other items balanced precariously in my arms. And as I stand in line waiting for my turn to rest my haul on the belt, from time to time someone will offer to hold the water for me, or let me rest it on their cart, or let me go ahead of them. And I always say no, with a hint of surprise in my voice, as if the idea that carrying all this shit would be difficult for me had never occurred to me. In reality I’m clenching every muscle in my body in a superhuman effort not to drop anything, but I’d be damned before I ever admit to needing help.
As a woman with many male friends, I hear many many stories about the things women will ask the men they date to help them with. Whether it’s a date for a wedding, a jump start, a picture hung in her apartment, or a stuck zipper that needs some force, women all over the place seem to have no qualms about asking a man they’re dating or fucking to help them with their needs. In fact there are a great number of women in the world who have no problem asking men they are no longer dating or fucking to help them. And while this boggles my mind and offends my overly independent sensibilities, I have to admit I’m not mad at these chicks. Because being a woman who needs help seems to go a long way toward having a man fall under your spell.
It seems that for every woman in the world who is asking a man for help with some shit she could do herself if she was just a little industrious, there is a man who is charmed by her need for help. Whenever I hear a story that starts with “So [Name Redacted] called me and asked me to go to her house and refill her cat’s water dish…”, I’m rolling my eyes in disgust at the pathetic and obvious ploy for attention while said man is continuing on to conclude that after he went to fill the water dish they went to dinner and then spent the night together and they’re going away together this weekend. While my weekends are spent watching Diners Drive-ins and Dives online and hoping that my e-boo will show up on gchat.
Clearly these damsels in distress are doing something right.
Because I am not a man, I’m going to refrain from speculating about what part of a man’s brain reacts positively to a woman in a helpless position. As much as I would like to, I’m not going to make any wisecracks about fragile egos that are boosted by being the knight in shining armour. Nor am I about to make any declarations about how men who find the need for help charming or appealing in women are either threatened by self-sufficient women or have nothing but sheer brawn to bring to the table.
Even though I pretty much believe that to be true. Because while all of that may be true, it’s also possible that a woman asking her guy (or “her” guy as the case may be) for help is the concept of “let a man be a man” put into practice. Maybe there is a kind of honesty in saying “please help me”, a kind of bravery in being able to say “I cannot do this by myself” that is all too lacking in too many women (present company included) and is therefore refreshing and appealing to men when they encounter it. Maybe every now and then all of us strong and capable women who pride ourselves on not needing a man for anything would be better served by humbling ourselves and asking for a hand every now and then.
But what do you guys think? Ladies are you comfortable with asking a man for help? Do you find that men are more interested in you when you appear to be less capable than you actually are? Men – is there some kind of chemical reaction that takes place in your brain when a woman asks you for help? Speak on it in the comments.