Is it wrong to fancy your workmen?

Imagine a scene from a 1970's British sitcom... a middle-aged woman, wearing only a skimpy black negligee, opens the front door to a young muscle-bound plumber and says something like, “Oh hello there, are you here to check my pipes?” The plumber chuckles naughtily as she grabs him and pulls him into the house.

Now picture the reality of me opening the front door to my plumber in 2018. It is early in the morning, very early, I still have pillow creases on my face and my hair is stunningly tied up in an old scrunchie on top of my head. I am clad in leggings and a giant mishapen sweatshirt, so when I say croakily, “Oh hello there, are you here to check my pipes?” it really doesn't have the same effect as the above.

The only similarity with these two scenarios is that my plumber is young and sexy. Frustratingly, so are all my tradesmen. They turn up at my door and just before I open it, I pray they will be ugly and fat with beer bellies and repellant hairy bum cracks on display, but no, my carpet guy, my builder, my decorator, my electrician and my carpenter are all unfairly blessed with good looks, are in their 30's, in good shape and utterly charming. It's frankly very annoying. It's annoying because I am at the age where it would be hilarious to think that someone 20 years younger than I, would find me in the least bit attractive but even so – and maybe because it's safe knowing that I'm old enough to be their mother – they do flirt outrageously and my God, it is fun! It's also the closest I've got to any male attention in over 2 years so I'm making the most of it, getting as many quotations and visits as I can without making my neighbour's curtains twitch.

But I'm also aware of how it can look. Years ago, when I was about 25, I was sitting in a bar with a friend watching two very drunk middle aged woman flirt outrageously with their young Italian waiter. The waiter was egging them on, giving them shots, pulling them up to dance, sitting on their laps and it was really funny but I also felt so embarrassed for them and I remember saying to my friend, “Don't ever let me be that woman!” And yet here I am, probably the same age as those women and I'm getting my kicks from mild innuendos and double entendres with my tradesmen but I haven't even got the excuse of being inebriated. Shoot me now!

If anyone had been a fly on the wall in my sitting room a few weeks ago, as my carpet guy showed me samples, they would have been aghast. He was sitting next to me with a pile of carpet samples on his lap. “Feel this one,” he said, indicating for me to rub the surface of the carpet. “Nordic Berber, soft yet hard-wearing, nice against the skin isn't it?” “Hmmm,” I replied dreamily. “All my clients love this,” he said, “So if you want it, tell me now”. This continued for about half an hour. He would put new samples on his lap, I would reach over and run my hand across the surface and make comments like, “Ooh yes that's nice,” or “No, too rough!” It was only when I made us a cup of tea and we both leaned back on the sofa, letting out deep contented sighs, that I completely got the giggles. So did he.

My plumber arrived the following day and as soon as we got upstairs, he ordered me to get in the shower and pretend to wash my hair to see how much room I needed. He then asked me to lie in the bath to make sure it was long enough, and then told me to sit on the loo to make sure my knees didn't hit the radiator. He was quite brusque and commanding and I must say, I'm not sure I've ever been in a situation where a man barked orders at me and I just did as I was told!! I quite enjoyed it. I asked him if he spoke to everyone like that and he replied, "Only women that pay me for my services!" and winked. Gosh.

My electrician then came by to see about fitting ceiling lights in the bathroom. He asked me me what I got up to in my bathroom in the evenings? When I frowned, turned a deep shade of red and asked what he meant, he said, "Well do you want to be fully lit up when it gets dark or would you rather the bathroom be a place to unwind with candles and a glass of wine?" Crikey, that's a bit personal I thought but he explained it was all to do with how many down-lights I needed and what intensity of bulb would work, so I guess it wasn't that probing after all. But then he added, "Well at least now I know what you get up to in the evenings!"

My carpenter is also great for saucy one-liners and any man with that many tools can always make something sound rude but he is also an actor so his delivery and timing are brilliant. In fact, we had an improv innuendo battle one day, seeing how many we could fit into a normal conversation whilst keeping a straight face. It's amazing how long we kept it up (excuse the pun) but with so many carpentry references such as: wood, erection, hammering, nailing, butt, cupping and screwing (to name a few), we managed a good 20 minutes. In the end, his partner got so annoyed with us he excused himself for a cigarette!

My decorator and handyman is the odd one out here. He is in his fifties and has become quite a good friend over the last year... doing everything from hanging blinds, building beds, plastering walls, fixing shelves, digging holes, everything I couldn't do when my hands were so badly in flare. He and I still flirt outrageously but it's become a sort of game, which of us can ask the most embarrassing question. We have talked a lot about dating and relationships in the past as we are both single, and I found myself telling him much more than I probably should have because when I bumped into him in the bank queue the other day, he gave me a huge hug and loudly asked, "So have you got lucky yet Juliet?" with a big grin and a nudge to the ribs! As the other customers turned to look at me, I realised I would never be able to set foot in Natwest again.

I have always liked to flirt as long as it is harmless and doesn't make the other person feel uncomfortable, and in a world where my life is surrounded by 95% women, it makes a refreshing change. But as all my my house renovations are likely to be finished by Christmas, I wonder where I will now get my kicks? There will be no more flirting and saucy chat, no more lovely men coming to my house, no more testosterone!! God... does that mean I have to get a real boyfriend?


Comments

Anonymous said…
Doods, that was really a BIG disappointment. I was all ready for the last paragraph when the electrician flipped your switch, but alas, nothing but disappointment.

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