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Why I Love Men



Last April, I bought a table-top grill with plans to grill my own steaks and chicken and pizza. I even planned in my head a small brick lined spot outside in which I would use this grill.

When I arrived home with the grill, I removed the instructions and left the rest of it in its box in the back of my car. I read the instructions...and left the grill in the car. Needless to say, the small canister of propane that is supposed to power the grill is sitting untouched on a shelf in my kitchen.

I showed my love the grill in the car, and he immediately brought it inside. We found the instructions, and he set to work at the table sorting through the screws and handles and whatnot that accompanied this piece of equipment. As I watched him and listened to him reading the directions (necisito un eme...un eme), it occurred to me just how much I love this part of a man's psyche.

I may be a strong, capable woman, but I love the way a man just instinctively knows how to read instructions and put together indecipherable pieces and turn them into something useful. He takes what seems impossible to me and makes it work. Whether its cleaning the car, repairing a broken window, or carrying inside the 100 pounds of dog food I would rather drive around with...he is such a complement.

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