Damsel in Distress

Today a middle-aged, overweight, hairy man with strange skin and a seriously cringe worthy plumbers crack told me, and i quote "so you're the damsel in distress, guess that makes me your knight in shinning armour".

My first impulse in response to this comment was to run screaming down the hill. My first desire was to both rip out all my hair and simultaneously hurl the nearby spanners at my verbal assailant. My first thought was one of despair along the lines of "i cannot have sunk this low".

My secondary reactions were more rationally controlled. My feminist side (thanks to my upbringing no doubt) was insulted that i appeared to be not only a distressed damsel but one that actually required some silly knight in shinning armour (I've always thought that was silly, if the armour is shiny chances are the knight hasn't required if very much or had any real action to test it's workmanship). I resisted my primary urges, crossed my arms, stood straight and tall and smiled grimly at the offencive man. "Thank you for coming." Was all i said in response to his words, I at least was polite.

Let me explain how this came about.

This morning my car wouldn't start. Distressing sure but not unsolvable. Unable to get myself to the station to get in to work i called a neighbour and got a lift, deciding I'd sort the car out when i got home, or even tomorrow morning. When i got home this evening i realised not only were there overdue videos to go back but also that there was nothing in the house to eat for dinner - and i need my dinner. So sighing in resignation i got dressed (I'd already showered and put on my pj's) in my work clothes, grabbed the torch, keys and tools I'd need from the shed and went up to the damned car. I knew it was most likely the battery - car doesn't start, generally a good place to start. So i started by hooking it up to the other car and jump starting it. This did not work. Getting concerned i took the battery out (not easy in a saab, damned things are in a tight spot and lots of unnatural bending of the arm is required to unscrew it) and hooked it up to the charger. Noticing it wouldn't charge properly i had a brain wave and put the battery from the other saab into the auto, thinking something was wrong with the battery itself, not the car. Unfortunately, 20mins later, i realised this wouldn't work either and i resigned myself to the fact that something was wrong with the car and i would have to call RACV.

Enter my "knight in shinning armour".

He did not arrive with his yellow RACV steed until 9.00pm, by which time i was starving and had actually eaten dry cereal (no milk left), a whole jar of sultanas and the slightly fuzzy last two oranges. I did not feel like a damsel wanting to be rescued, i felt hungry, fed up and shitty with how long it had taken him to get here. I did not look like a damsel wanting to meet her knight in shining armour. I was wearing hard yakka overalls with my dad's Swedish ugg boots, my hair stuffed into a beanie and grease and dirt all over my hands, clothes and possibly my face. I was mentally prepared for the treatment i next got after his opening comment and once over glance however it still irritated me as he condescendingly asked me if I'd checked the car was in park before trying the ignition, if the oil and water were ok, if I'd had someone - maybe one of my manly neighbours - come over and try to jump start it and i rolled my eyes at his surprise that i had checked and tried all these things. Then he proceeded to ignore me as i told him that it wasn't the battery and how i knew that and insisted on putting in a new battery himself - cos obviously a girl wouldn't know what she was talking about. When this didn't work he seemed surprised.

At this stage i went back down to the house and made myself a cup of tea. I did not offer one to my patronising misogynistic knight. When I'd finished my tea i went back up and found him fiddling with the starter motor. 40 minutes later the car was working. I'm not sure why, and i don't think the RACV guy is either but i didn't care. Politely i thanked him, got in and headed down to monbulk to get food from Safeway.

I just want to make one thing very clear. I am not a damsel in distress. Now i have calmed down, and eaten properly, i can see that he was just being who he is and i over-reacted but it still annoys me that these presumptions are made about me. I wasn't even wearing any of my usual shoes or clothes that may give the impression of a damsel, distressed or otherwise. If, or when, i decide to be a distressed damsel in want of a knight in (shinning) armour to rescue me i will damned well say so. And needless to say i will be sure to be dressed appropriately.