At times, the lavatory seat can become rather unstable. Unexpectedly, the bolt at the rear end might get dislodged, which can be potentially hazardous. If you’re in haste to utilise the facility, you’re running the risk of tumbling off, smashing through the adjacent shower screen, potentially inflicting self-injury and consequent death. All, allegorically speaking, while your pants are down. In the event such an incident occurs, we’ve arranged an alternative narrative. If you hear of my heroic death while saving orphans and kittens from a fiery museum, you know the actual course of events.
The responsibility of rectifying this inevitably falls upon my shoulders. The task can prove to be painstakingly intricate, given the cramped space between the toilet and shower, just about large enough to squeeze in a human head. To reach the bolt at the rear, I’m required to get on the floor and slide myself into the small gap. My one dread is that I might end up getting lodged in there. If you hear that I’ve decided to retreat into a quiet monastery, you can guess what really transpired.
This duty, along with others of a similar ilk, perpetually falls upon me. I was raised in a time when it was an unwritten rule that men would invariably own some toolbox and be the initial ones to make a stab at fixing things around the house: If unsuccessful, eventually a specialist would be summoned. My dad was cut from the same cloth, and much like myself, his aspirations often exceeded his capabilities.
However, I derive pleasure in attending to these tasks. The satisfaction that I get from being useful most of the time, brings me joy. In an era where the mention of “masculinity” is invariably followed by “toxic”, this particular facet of being male can be non-threatening and beneficial; possibly even a demonstration of affection.
To avoid accusations of maintaining stereotypical gender roles, let me affirm that I’m wholeheartedly supportive of women assuming these roles too. I stand by the profession of female plumbers, carpenters, and electricians. I’m aware that many men harbour an intense dislike for DIY. Yet, the societal expectation that men should instinctively understand such tasks persist.
It’s commonplace to observe men going through significant changes as they age. These changes generally occur during their 50s or 60s, and mainstream culture often humorously refers to it as a midlife crisis: manifested as a sudden affinity for hair colour and sportscars.
One interpretation of such a transformation might be when a gentleman elects to take up drumming, try his hand at classic car restoration, or even immerse himself in Vietnamese hiking adventures. It’s a decision that can be spurred by newfound confidence and a level of independence, potentially having reached a point where his mortgage is largely settled. His offspring may have already matured and established their own living arrangements.
In any case, the man often feels less burdened by fatherly obligations or societal expectations to be the quintessential male figurehead; a provider, defender, or domestic handyman. Men traditionally shoulder this responsibility, sacrificing greatly to fulfil these anticipated roles, often only finding the space to discover who they truly are, or aspire to be, in their fifties.
Of course, the experiences of women at the same stage are remarkably different and not all men undergo a transformation. Some only grow more irritable, feeling at odds with a world they find puzzling and aren’t eager to comprehend. This frustration may manifest as vocal complaints about ‘Common Sense’, or even lead to participance in local politics.
However, for those who break free, it’s a chance to distance themselves from the life they were always expected to lead. Despite the advantages patriarchy offers men, it also poses restrictions.