THERE’S A BLOKE IN MY FREEZER
There’s a Bloke in My Freezer.
One week into my search for the meaning of life and I find myself writing a friend’s name on a scrap of paper, putting it in a Tupperware container and popping it in the freezer.
To protect the innocent let’s call him Warren. (Which, by the way, is his real name.)
Mind the peas, Warren.
I sought his countenance on life direction as he’d recently started writing a book about all he’d achieved in life so far. However the reading of this tome proved to not be as fruitful as I might have hoped. Rather than scribbling an historically relevant bible of inspiration it appeared my friend had not only invented a new literary genre but an entirely new verb, ‘de-spiring.’
“So far it’s basically a book about what not to do with your life,” he concurred. “I’m actually thinking of picking up the tone by resorting to plagiarising the best bits of other people’s lives.”
The question of what you’re going to do with the rest of your life is an intimate one.
I wanted to share it with a friend and so I persevered with Warren, who then proceeded to advise me on my future by first dissecting my past. “I blame the feminists for your prediction,” he said.
‘They’re the ones who told you as a young girl that being a mother wasn’t enough and that being financially supported by a man was demeaning. They’re the ones who told you that you should be a superwoman; run a global empire, teach your kids Russian while you prepare homemade crumpets, and advise Barack Obama on religion/fashion via Twitter while helping the woman at the corner shop give birth.
“They’re the ones who said you could have it all, but you ended up giving your all instead and now your life is empty. If you really want to be fulfilled then what you must do is the opposite of everything you’ve done before.
“Forget this fruitless expression of individuality and independence. You must find yourself a bloke.”
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