They had been labouring for about a week. Still, I don`t really know what they actually did. My mind was probably occupied with more severe controversies, like Tinder or Airbnb. Nonetheless, it looked serious and well- organized. There were huge vehicles, noise and brand- clothes everywhere. From what I could see, they were removing asphalt. Looking at pipes. Inspecting pipes. I`m not completely sure. Clearly, this will only serve as speculations on my part. Although, if I had to guess, I`m certainly open to the idea that this could have something to do with either internet or more technical pipe- matters. However, what I did see, were young men. Plenty of young men.
Mentioning young men, doesn`t mean gross young men. Yet, they were undeniably younger than I was. Without doubt, they still inhabited their fair share of muscles and testosterone. They were true working-men, with real muscles. You couldn`t miss it, even if you tried. There were big thighs and strong backs for as far as the eye could see. All around the block. My block. In spite of that, observing bodies wasn`t the reason why I was hiding amongst bushes. My mission was figuring out exactly what kind of skills they possessed, within manual labour. There hadn`t been any working- men at my house for ages, and now; now they were surrounding me. They were all over! For sure, an opportunity too good to miss.
With no time to loose, I hit the shower. Soap and shampoo, everywhere. Shaved, everywhere. And yes, you might be right. Shaving seems unnecessary, and in theory, it probably was. In practice, though, it must not be underestimated. The effect could be mind-blowing. It`s as simple as this; If you feel amazing, you most certainly are amazing. I knew this. There were many proofs. The only thing left was to see whether this could result in some asphalt as well.
The hole had been there for approximately a year. Whenever I parked my car, I had to manoeuvre profoundly, in order to not disappear into the abyss. It was hard ,bothersome and somewhat sad. Sad because it reminded me that there were no working- men in my house. Not even one. There wouldn`t be any man filling this hole with any sort of fragments, any time soon. No man would line up, watching the hole, wondering what to do. I didn`t even have a man to discuss this with. This hole- issue. In addition, there wasn`t much feminism related either. Nothing to be comforted by. Nothing to be proud of. All it was, was an empty space in my driveway. A miserable hole I had to deal with, day in and day out. At every given opportunity, it screamed to my face. You are now entering the driveway to an old lady! An old lady, living all by herself! Holes everywhere! No man in sight!
Then you get creative, of course. Well, creative is slightly exaggerated. It`s more of an “easy way out” I guess. There`s no two ways about it. Obviously, it`s our oldest weaponry. So yes. I blow- dried my hair. Straightened it. I put on make-up, made my cheek- bones slightly red. Sparkling earrings, slim- fit- jeans. And not to mention; click- clack- shoes. It`s highly uncertain that the sound of click- clacks arouses any primal instincts with men. I can`t explain it, but there`s a thing. For sure. At malls, everywhere. If you want the attention, go for click- clacks. It`s a safe bet. Sneakers wouldn`t stand a chance. In that case, you must wear close to nothing to make up for the androgynous look on your two bare feet. You don`t wanna go there. Especially not at malls.
I took one last look in the mirror, and adjusted hair and make- up. Long neck and steady walk. A lot of click- clack. I prefer skipping the details about what took place in the streets. However, I had to man up. Acting like a proper lady. Looking like a proper lady. Of course, I might have laughed more than usual. I might have mentioned being a single- mother. There could possibly have been coffee and cake in the picture. The saying “A woman in need” might have been referred to. Also, I could have been pretending going to lunch, in order to “Catwalk” the entire street. As some kind of reward, and to avoid being revealed completely. I didn`t want them to believe I had made all that effort just to get some piece of asphalt. I surely didn`t want them to know this was all an act. Then again. Who would ever suspect someone to flirt at that extent only to get some rock in their driveway?
Needless to say, there wasn`t any walk of shame taking place that day. It was only natural, I thought. They had been getting coffee, cakes and click- clack in the middle of the day. Surely, I should have something in return. This was a perfect trade, in my opinion. Based on human nature. Also, it felt like regaining some control, with all the upsetting #Metoo- stories circulating. It almost felt like I was acting on behalf of every woman out there. Since we were given bodies men found irresistible, under any circumstances. Why not see it as an advantage? Harvest the fruit of your labour, so to speak. Fully dressed, of course. Absolutely.
In my case, I really don`t think any of us felt rather used or harassed. Therefore, I turned the corner smiling. I could still smell the warm asphalt as I walked away. It was the best smell ever! And then, I sat down in the grass. Found my purse, and placed my click- clacks neatly into it. White sneakers took care of me all the way into town. Hardly any lunch- break, and no errands to run. Only long neck and steady walk.