Last Saturday, a cold and snowy day, my heating system ceased to produce hot air. Panic hit me as I imagined a repairman arriving and telling me I needed I new unit, a pitch commonly given to women like me who appear dumbfounded by any mechanical failure. I didn’t have to worry about that because the company I called didn’t respond to my emergency until Monday morning. In the meantime, I called my boyfriend for advice. “It’s probably just the pilot light,” he said, offering to come over and take a look at the situation.
I felt instantly at ease. Men are such beautiful beings, I thought as my appreciation for their evolution soared off the page. Men pour calm over the frightening mysteries of how things work. My boyfriend and I are long time lovers. We’ve travelled extensively together, hiking coastlines and mountain passages, dining in fine restaurants and on ships, all tarted up in glamorous evening wear. But never did my prince look so handsome and so sexy as when he arrived at my door on that bitter cold Saturday morning wearing sweats and carrying a toolbox.
I conclude that Prince Charming is the man who is there for you when you need him. My boyfriend crawled around my attic, with an aching back, and installed a new pilot light. My boyfriend lit my flame. He needs no white charger. He is made of shining armor.