So, my emasculation is complete. After two days of handbag shopping, Chablis drinking and makeup testing, my masculinity has been exhausted. I no longer feel like a true alpha male. My fall from male grace is so complete that I finished this past weekend drinking in a gay bar with a bunch of flowers and a box of pastries under my arm! My testosterone has been sucked from my body. My veins, once pulsing with red blood, now run with cuticle cleaner, age defying moisturiser, wrinkle remover and perfume!
Why? Well, unfortunately, my wife has been working every hour god sends in a bid to finish her latest project on time. She has been working 12-hour days, and was forced to work the entire past weekend. As we had Jacqui, a good friend over for the weekend, I was left to entertain her on my own.
Jacqui is an old friend from London who has recently moved back home to Townsville in North Queensland. She is, as they say, a force of nature.
Townsville is not what you would describe as a shopping or cultural Mecca. Her hometown is an investment and property hot spot and it boasts the highest concentration of millionaires in Australia. But unfortunately for Jacqui, nearly all of them are banana farmers! The girl who arrived on our doorstep on Friday was hungry to shop! Not only that, just before she arrived I received a text which read ‘Landed early! Get ready baby, I need to get drunk! Massive blue with ex!’ I could see I was going to need both patience and stamina and an armoury of that clichéd advice people in distress appear to love!
For the entire weekend I was dragged from pillar to post, stopping only to refuel on white wine and pastries. My input was limited to the odd outburst of ‘how much’ or ‘there’s nothing of it’. My emasculation was so complete that a young gay shop assistant assumed me to be fair game! He flirted with me unashamedly, even pointing to my camera and commenting on the size of my lens! As I’d been in the fragranced world of female shopping for so long I merely blushed and giggled like a little girl before turning away with a coquettish skip. If I had any hair left I probably would have flicked it!
What in gods name had happened to me! Should I be putting myself forward for re-programming by Pats’ Buchanan, and Robertson, or am I on my way to listening to Pat Benatar and quoting Shere Hite at dinner parties? Had I become the females eunuch?
This week I will be drinking beer, watching sport, playing with power tools and cussing, a lot!
Jacqui left on Sunday with her resolve strengthened and her designer shopping bags full. I, on the other hand am at home recovering. I am taking a few days off to regroup, read some Earnest Hemmingway and hopefully rediscover my testicles.
P.S. Girls, the shopping down Chapel St is excellent, especially for summer frocks and handbags!