Man-of-the-House Replacement Kit
You've got this girl!
with Lorinda Birdwhistle
Trust me when I say you aren’t gonna miss that fucker. I can only imagine how very insulting it was to come across that “Bumble” folder tucked in with your TurboTax files on the shared laptop. There was Tom, in multiple jpgs — naked from the waist up, proudly showing off his furry man boobs in selfies taken in your bathroom, with your white undies hanging on the towel rack, and your Noxema on the counter. WTF. Did Tom really think you’d never come across these pics, just because he does all the taxes? Well, you did, and now, here you are. Sitting across from no one at the breakfast table every morning after kicking his sorry ass out the door. Good for you.
Do not let him back in. Get those locks turned. Today. And really, Sharon… what have you lost? Oh yeah. Your pride. 😭😭😭 Pick that right up off the floor, give it a quick dust-off, then get on with things. Tom was never such a great catch. You know that. I know that.
And here’s the thing, at least you’ve not contracted an STD (you know — those afflictions that in the 70s we called “venereal diseases”). Clearly, Tom hadn’t gotten very far with his tomcatting (😂), and this was undoubtedly because he had too many vestiges of “old married guy”— neatly pressed shirts and perfectly coordinated work ensembles, and that telltale band of pale skin on his left ring finger. The icing on Tom’s philandering bundt cake: those idiotic Cole Haan tasseled loafers. Those weren’t even popular when they were popular.
And let’s not forget Tom’s Honda HR-V with the Walmart “Boho” seat covers. No man, in his right mind, would have picked out that car and outfitted it with those seat covers, unless he had an IQ to match his lower-than-average testosterone level. Ladies, imagine spending hours getting dolled up for a date, then Señor Studly shows up in his White Orchid Pearl HR-V with those creepy textured polyester seat covers, which are sprayed with some sort of fabric guard that causes your bare, freshly waxed legs to break out in welts. There’s $100 you’ll never get back.
Sharon — Nadine and I thought long and hard about your situation and put together this handy Man-of-the-House Replacement Kit. When we’re done gathering up all the components, you won’t even notice he’s gone, and your quality of life is going to go through the roof… the sunroof on your new, 2025 Subaru Outback in Geyser Blue, that is! Let the kit-building begin…
If you’re feeling you’re not getting your emotional needs met now that your husband’s side of the bed is empty, give this a try, per the Harley Monkey Experiment. Put a microfiber mop head over a wire bread basket and at the top attach an Elon Musk mask. According to the experiment, this should tide you over until the next book club meeting. Seriously, though, Sharon, get one of those stupid body pillows. According to AI, “The act of hugging a body pillow taps into our primal need for physical connection and releases feel-good chemicals like endorphins and oxytocin, promoting relaxation and reducing stress.” Hell, that never happened with Tom. What have you got to lose besides $69.97 + tax?
I know this seems pathetic, but one of the things I really missed about Hank after I kicked him out was his getting the lids off jars. Turns out this was an easy solve… a helluva lot easier than making dinner for him every night of the year. Get a non-slip rubber lid opener ($1.99) at the Dollar Tree. A minuscule price to pay for freedom.
One thing Hank never did was get me off, and judging from your perpetually crabby behavior, Sharon, I’m guessing the same was true with Tom. Hey girl, you tried. For forty years. Fuck that. Time to finally get what you need in the way of equipment and get down to business. Hell, you wear glasses so you can read, you’ve got dental implants so you can chew, and you’ve got an artificial hip so you can walk. Get yourself a colorful vibrating penis so you can get your rocks off.
Time to restore your pride after years of mindless grocery shopping and housework, epitomized by the vehicle you were forced to drive, a Chevy Lumina. Fuck you, Tom, for saddling Sharon with that piece of shit. Was humiliating her intentional? I do think. Girl! Time to trade in that Lumina for a 2025 Subaru Outback. You have perfect credit, and you’ll no doubt be pre-approved for the best rate on a car loan. Get it done before the entire economy tanks. And be sure to add a roof rack for your kayak. Then, get the hell out of Dodge (or Chevy, as the case may be) and put yourself on the Russian River for a week.
So… now there’s no husband to engage in grunt work, like moving your huge terra cotta pots, and bringing in bags of topsoil and kitty litter, am I right? Sharon, you can do this without him. Trust me. Lighten your load with a fabulous hand truck. When it’s done hauling your shit, it collapses and can be chucked behind the pantry door, out of view, unlike Tom, who you’d be forced to look at in his vibrating Costco recliner all evening as he watches the Packers.
The next step? Ask those teenage boys next door to haul his fucking recliner to the curb for $15 each, while you’re printing out a “FREE” sign which you’ll tape to its ugly vegan pleather. And while you’re sitting at the computer, order a custom T-shirt that says the same thing.
Then, there’s all that yardwork. Tom did a decent job of it, until he didn’t. Pretty sure he started slacking on that a few decades back, about the same time he quit going down on you. Wouldn’t it be nice to have an attractive yard again? A place to relax and sunbathe? Hey, you’ve got alimony coming, put it to good use. Hire a guy. Enjoy the show, enjoy the yard, enjoy your purple dildo. And for god’s sake, take that handsome hunk a glass of cold iced tea with a lemon wedge would ya?
Not sure how to fix a thing? Let me tell you, Tom had no special talent in this department. From what you described, he did everything Italian Army style — every goddammed thing in your house is jerry-rigged. You trip over a cord and the wifi is down, as well as your computer and printer, then the microwave and electric teapot, and fuck (!)… the hot water heater, too. How could so many things be on one circuit? And why is the wall behind that electrical outlet so hot? Holy shit.
There are two roads one might take in resolving this: call in an expert or do it yourself. I say go with The Road Not (Usually) Taken. You know the one…
"I shall be telling this with a sigh Somewhere ages and ages hence: Two roads diverged in a wood, and I— I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference." Robert Frost was on to something. Well-done repairs do make all the difference. And ladies, we all know there's nothing hotter than a guy who can fix things. Properly.
Ditto for the car shit. You could take this on, but you know what… wouldn’t it make more sense to head over to the pool and swim laps in the sun, readying yourself for Chapter Two: Throw Me on the Bed and Ravish Me? Ha, ha, ha.
Then there were all those times Tom was good for hauling shit to the junkyard in his beater truck. How are you going to deal with that, especially now that you need to clear all of his stuff out of your house? You don’t drive a stick, and besides, that truck is destined to break down halfway to the dump. Here’s an idea… hire Oscar to do it. You sign over the truck’s pink slip to him, and he’ll load all of Tom’s flotsam and jetsam in the back, then off he goes with all those bad memories. There’s a good day for you.
And don’t be fooled by appearances. Oscar may look like Jed Clampett, but he’s got degrees from Yale and Berkeley, knows the definition of flotsam and jetsam, and can recite “To His Coy Mistress” by heart.
Doing minor repairs around the house… no big deal! Sharon, you can do this! Why spend hundreds of dollars calling in a plumber and having to look at his fat asscrack every time you’ve got a clogged sink? What about that hole in the wall where Tom threw his fist after the Green Bay Packers lost? Then there’s the issue of the draft that comes through the back door. Le Mistral nearly doubled last winter’s gas bill. The door… it just needs a bit of weatherstripping. How to apply it properly is the problem. The solution — easy peasy. Watch how-to videos on YouTube and enjoy more good-looking guys, carefully explaining how to do a thing. Maybe start with The Home Repair Tutor.
Fortunately, all of Tom’s tools are still in the garage, neatly organized on his industrial pegboard. You’ve got everything you need, including a new sign-in code for the garage door.
There’s just one more loose end, and that would be the grilling — you know, all those luscious steaks and sweet corn, marinated shrimp skewers, and smoked brisket. I know, I know, that’s a hard one, and from what I have read, BBQ withdrawal is right up there with shaking heroin, cocaine and crystal meth. It’s the number one reason women allow their exes to come back. Since this is a lifelong addiction you will never conquer, it’s best to enlist the expertise of a pro, Bobby Flay (🔥🔥🔥), and learn self-sufficiency on the grill. The Food Network offers a special rehab program that has a 100% success rate: “Barbecue Addiction: Bobby's Basics Recipes.”
Can’t wait to see the stupid grin on your face once you realize what you’re gaining from this loss. WE LOVE YOU, SHARON. ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️
Well I don't know. I did teach some women to drive stick, as well as my niece and three nephews. And I took my niece for flying lessons starting when she was 7. She thanked me when she reached young adulthood. I also showed her how a tire is changed when she was around 6 or 7. She subsequently had to change a few tires when she got flats in inconvenient places. And once, I came upon a teenaged girl with a flat tire. I stopped, and I told her I could change it for her, which would take around 15 minutes, or I could tell her what to do but let her do it, which would take more like half an hour, maybe a bit more. She chose the latter, and did a good job of it.
The more independent women can be, the better off they are, and often, the safer they are.
Lorinda Birdwhistle: Your "Monkey-Harley", "Natural Love Company," and Tee-Shirt ideas are practical and substitute quite well in comparison with most partners, I would think.
Your tales are brisk and full of practical wisdom.
There is a rhythm to your prose that carries us through and the result in the end is empowering.