There are three types of men in this world: Those who will hold your handbag without batting an eyelid, those who will recoil and those who won’t have a woman anywhere near them.
I have never asked my brother to hold my handbag but dare say he would. After all, at age 18, long, lean and sex on legs, he’d take that excuse of a tiny dog (my sister’s) for walks. A sight if ever there was one. Proof that size is not everything. Confidence is everything. And not giving a hoot what other people think.
I haven’t yet tested this on my son who takes after his uncle in more ways than one (minus the dog) but then I am in no rush to do so. Anyway his legs are so long he usually loses me until he realizes that he is talking to a complete stranger on his heels whilst the woman for whom nothing is too much to make him happy lags some two hundred meters behind.
I shall draw up a list of all the men in my life, related, befriended, married, divorced or just dreamed about, who I think are handbag holders or not. Happily so. On sufferance. Or couldn’t care less. The one you need to beware of is the one who will hold it but only just – on his fingertips, slightly testy as to how long it takes you to arrange yourself before taking repossession of the kitchen sink in your handbag.
Yes, love you too.