Domesticated man

As a single guy, one of the tragic things to do is put yourself out there for meeting people. Meeting likeminded people is difficult enough, being gay, a bit over weight and hairy is triple so much. This post is not about my lack of a dating life, but rather something else which came up during a chat with someone new.

It is hard enough to make small talk, getting to know a person online, getting a feel for them. One of the easier things to talk about is how your day was and what you did. So being a Saturday I run through my day for the guy. It started with two loads of washing (and you wonder why I struggle to pull people in), then a dash to the mall for my hair cut. Back home I did house cleaning and sorting and folding my clothes. So his comment back to me is: You sound so domesticated.

For a moment there I was not sure if it was a compliment or complaint. To be honest, I am still not sure, but it got me thinking. He is correct, I am a domesticated man. I grow up in a household were we did everything our self. My mom did not have help; she had two sons that she made sure we did our part. The upside to that (not that I saw it that way growing up) is that it is something that I just do. It is part of the routine. Unlike our childhood home, my house is a small duplex, with far less furniture and carpets. So cleaning it is actually a pleasure compared to our childhood home.

Now, I am speaking for myself, I don’t know what other thirty year old middle income people do. Chances are they have a help come in once a week. Having a look around our complex, that does not seem far off.


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