It's a Man Thing

Yesterday, being incapacitated due to his bee sting (see previous post), Himself settled down with the laptop and set up his new blog, as he didn’t like the name of the last one. So far so good. I’ll give you the link when he’s actually written something. (Don’t hold your breath.)

He then spent hours learning about Blogger which mystified me as he’s not usually patient. I’m certainly not – being a) extremely impatient and b) permanently short of time (that’s my excuse), I email a friend, usually Cornish Dreamer, who’s younger and infinitely wiser than me, and she can usually sort out the problem in a trice.

Being a male, however, of course Himself would never dream of Asking For Help. He spent all afternoon trying to download a cartoon which won’t work because it’s not a Jpeg. I suggested he email CD.
‘No, no,’ he said. ‘Can’t you help, Pop?’
I’d already tried and couldn’t, so with a Manly Sigh he turned back to the keyboard, muttering darkly about Wives and Unhelpfulness.

Getting sick of this, I emailed CD who, sure enough, emailed instructions through in a moment. She also offered to come round and sort it out if that didn’t work. For five minutes emailing, he could have got the whole thing sorted, instead of wasting hours.

I had years of temping in London (it was a lucrative way of stalling when I got bored with the latest job) when I was paid to be fast and efficient. As a result, I didn’t have time to faff around trying to work things out – I had to find out how to do things and get them done, preferably by yesterday. So, as time is of the essence, that’s what I still do.

When I asked Himself why he didn’t like asking other people, he said, ‘because I want to work it out for myself.’

Very admirable. No, I mean it. I think it’s very honourable. But he does have more
time at his disposal. And patience. I’d rather find out how to do it and get on with – the book, article, my course.

From next door I hear Himself still battling with his Personal Profile. He's lost part of it (how?). All I can hear is angry thumping of the keyboard and, 'It's a Fxxxer.'

So why do men find it so difficult to ask for help? Did someone mention ego? Male pride?

What do you and yours think?