TEACHING A MAN HOW TO CLEAN
1 October 2006

My boyfriend of 3 years is a very modern man, very enlightened and bright. We have had many talks about how to have a balanced relationship, who to do what in the household and about what we, realistically, can expect from eachother. We firmly believe in equality at home and that we share work tasks fairly. So far so good.

He is very good at pointing out when he has done something which actually spared me time. Like doing the dishes or doing the laundry. Of course this all makes me happy. He also pays all bills and deals with other paper-work. Those typical man tasks.

Today he told me about a friend who is an extreme highflyer, as is the friend's brother, and their father. I asked what the mother does. Apparently she is a housewife. She always used to cook them dinner when they came home from Uni, very busy with their uni assignments. Their mother always had a meal ready for them. THAT is my boyfriend's most vivid memory of the mum of 3 (highflyers).

Typical. I told him that without their incredible mother, probably none of them would be a highflyer today. Just imagine they had to deal with "usual" stuff, like groceries, laundry or hoovering. Not to mention ironing their business suits and thinking about what to cook every night. How much time and energy would they have left to deal with their professional lives? There are exceptions, but in general I think most women can agree that: Without women, most men are slightly lost.

Back to my Man. Yesterday he cooked me a lovely Caribbean meal. Today I cleaned the whole flat. He had to work, and it is ok for me to clean once in a while without his help when I know he needs the time differently. But just for the sake of not feeling that he made too good of a deal, I asked him to hoover under the bed. After 90 seconds he was done - and to his anger I checked it out. After all I don't want to have heaps of dirt under the bed. And I was right. He had not even moved the boxes (that he so badly wants to store there). It was SO dusty, enough for mice to build a little house.

I am just wondering if I am too picky. I certainly do not think so. But sometimes it feels like I am trying to teach an old dog to sit - I have told him 10 times about the dust under the bed and every time he says "okok, alright, now I know, next time I'll do it your way". But, voila, next time always becomes "next time". One day I will stop hoovering there and we'll get a mini zoo under the bed with different kinds of creeps, insects and mice running around. Then he will need to call Anticimex and say claim that he was the one who took measures to get rid of the creeps. Such a hero he would be!