Sometimes it’s easy to be… a woman

I just read this article that appeared on the MSN homepage. It says that the modern male is more adept at ironing than he is at changing a plug or, god forbid, getting his togs greasy by looking under the bonnet of a car. I was worried, but not for the reasons suggested here. I’m comfortable with my inability to effectively put up a set of shelves or change a starter motor. I’m even okay with my steadily increasing use of moisturiser. No. What really scares me is the fact that I went to see the Sex And The City Movie yesterday.

And I liked it.

Surely it is my duty as a red-blooded hunter-gatherer to despise this pink, fluffy, talcum-puffed lump of cocktail-soaked femininity. Surely I should have sat there shouting, "So where’s the bloody sex then!" at the screen, all the while remarking on ways in which they could all solve their problems by dropping their careers and hitting the kitchen, like that dark-haired one with cute behind – Charlotte. She’s got the idea.

But no, I empathised with them, wishing them well in their quest for love and security alongside their handbags and credit cards. To my shock, I even felt a tear forming in the back of my eye at one point. I batted it away. I had brought the lady along with me so I would be able to tell friends that I was only there because she had wanted to see it. My other excuse was that I HAD to see it because of work – this review in fact. I was covered.

As the review says, there is a lot to criticise about the SATC project. By the time I sat down to write it, I had recovered some of my hairy-chinned cynicism resolving to give it three stars out of five. And it was lucky not to have been given two. The reality was though that, whilst watching Carrie, Miranda, Samantha and Charlotte, my metrosexuality had reached new heights. I had been entirely suckered into a state of unwitting faux-femininity by these bastions of designer clothing and pink champagne. It was a catastrophe.

Some masculine therapy is required: beer, football, more beer and a violent movie. Then maybe I’ll go really nuts and try changing that plug…