Lesson Thirty-One: Men Do Make Good Husbands and Housewives.

Ladies - here's a question for you. What is a good husband? Does one even exist? Allow me to introduce you to the man I believe is the world's best husband and I doubt he even knows it. I have a very good friend is who about to celebrate his 40th this month, a good friend whom I met 17 years ago at the New Zealand School Of Broadcasting in Christchurch. It was the very first day, all 70 or so of us met in the television studio and I saw him instantly and went and sat next to him. This tall smiling, Maori from Hawkes Bay wearing ORANGE knee-length denim shorts, a PURPLE hoodie and a really long ponytail. "Aaron Munro" he said as he introduced himself to me, "But my friends call me Goose".

Me: "What should I call you?"
Aaron: "A cab if I need one..." and he cracks up at his own joke.
Me: "You need to sharpen those wits Goose", and we've been friends ever since.

Goose loves orange and purple.....separately and as you saw me describe, together. And he could carry them off as well - I mean who's going to question the fashion of a tall Maori, in white-country Christchurch with a ponytail?

We spent two years studying together, drinking together (he used to drink 'Flame' beer by the box back then) and are still friends today.

Goose is the epitome of what we gals desire in a husband. I'm assuming here, but when a bride stands at the altar and says, "I do" to her betrothed, she wants a strong, protective, loving man who can laugh with her, support her, learn and grow with her and unconditionally love her.

That is what Goose does every day with his wife Grace. He is as in love with her today as he has ever been and it's been over a decade since they were married. They have experienced a lot together including Grace's recent, very serious health concerns. Goose was and remains at her side every step of the way. He's never questioned, never judged, never said a bad or nasty word against her, but is also not afraid to show how in love he is with her, and how they are best friends. They laugh, they talk about everything, he listens, he knows she loves Facebook and can and will spend two hours talking to her sister on the phone and he never gets upset or anise.  He is great around the house, very domestic and I'd go so far to say he's the brown, male version of Martha Stewart.

I can go around to their house and talk about anything and everything and despite the rolling eyes (Goose) and laughs at my expense (again, Goose), I feel great just being around these two.

So Ladies, the next time your husband pisses you off, or that guy you've been dating turns out to be an absolute tool....never fear that things aren't going to get better. Don't soak in cynicism and think, "All men are idiots" because Goose is proof that all men aren't, and if there is one Goose out there, there's bound to be hundreds more. (PS Goose before you start to get all 'Billy T' on me, remember it takes a pretty great woman to make a good man, excellent.)

Lesson Thirty: Get Off Your Arse And Make Lemonade.

Everyone needs a Trevor in their life.

Trevor West isn't someone who is really close to me - he's definitely
someone I would love to have in my life every day if I could. I met Trevor through some mutual great friends we have and have had the chance on a few occasions to knock back a few drinks and have some laughs. (It's fair to say that I probably had a bit of a fleeting crush during one of those meetings.)

I have always wanted to be that person that left a lasting mark on someone - in a positive way. (Er,  not a physical way like on their face or bedsheets!) And I fondly remember men who have come in and out of my life and really made me think or feel. Trevor is one of those guys.

When I was made redundant last November it was as though I was diagnosed with some weird flesh-eating disease. Noone knew what to say to me, so they either politely ignored me apart from a nod of the head as they walked past or even worse, a pat on the head.  (NB: Apart from my Father who was the first person I called when I opted to step out of my 16 years in radio. (Love you Dad!)

One or two weeks into my "new life" I got this amazing email from Trevor. He lives in Sydney, Australia, is in a wonderful and loving relationship with a pretty solid, great paying job that he was pretty damn good at. Trev emailed to say he was enjoying my blog, and that, like me,  he had been made redundant six weeks prior. I felt a huge sense of relief that something so shit was actually happening to someone else, and someone I really rated. Then instead reading words like, "So Tarsh, I know just how you feel, chin up old girl...." this random but well timed email went on to say, "It's probably the best thing that ever happened to me. Off to Nepal tomorrow for a hike for three weeks."


And off he went - just a few weeks shy of Christmas, Trevor waved goodbye to his long-term partner, and went to Nepal where he grew a beard and dug his own toilet. Without even realizing it, Trevor inspired me to get off my arse and turn lemon's into lemonade. Sure I didn't hike for weeks getting food poisoning and only showering a couple of times, but goddamnit I got my A into G.

It's those unexpected heroes that come into my life that make such a difference on how I see things. I've long been the girl that has looked after herself and trusted that I will know exactly what to do. But you know, sometimes if you really want it, that help comes along wearing a cowboy hat and a big smile and doesn't use the word "advice".  The Boyfriend joked recently that I sort of stumble along in my own way but I get there in the end. And unfortunately I do go through experiences like it's my first time on heels - but eventually I get that catwalk strut that I need to get it done and swim around in my homemade lemonade - and one day I'll share a glass with Trevor.

Lesson Twenty-Nine: Think (Tarsh) Before You Speak.

Thinking before you speak - I really thought I was starting to nail this concept as I got older. I was wrong.

Steve Joll - devoted husband, loving and proud father-of-three, baker, gym-bunny, really genuine good guy, and breakfast radio guy on The Breeze.  To this day, I still cringe when I think about what happened. (I bet he's racking his brain trying to figure out where this is going.)

I first met Steve Joll several years ago during one of the annual Radio Bootcamps. (i.e.: you have a few hours with a radio consultant and then a night out with endless grog talking crap and banging ego's with radio announcers from around the country. Ahhh - those were the days!)  I was sitting at the bar and we started chatting and he goes, "Sorry who are you?" I went, "Oh, um, Tarsh" he goes, "Ahh from the Edge, yeah I've heard you - you're pretty good eh?".  And not in a greasy way, in a really genuine way and I knew who he was so I was chuffed. Years later I moved to Mediaworks Wellington where Steve was also based and realized pretty quickly what a big deal he is in this town - without begin a jerk about it.  I remember the time I was heading into the city to meet up with him and some other friends for a few drinks, I'm running late and forced to sprint for the bus in my pink high heels and there's Steve's face in full glory on the back of it. He thought it was hilarious when I told him later on - Tarsh rarely chases any men.

Steve is one of those guys who will always help you out and one of those people I always wanted to leave with a good impression of myself. Major fail, here's what happened.

Steve had the same morning pre-show routine. Takes his shoes off as soon as he gets to work and pads around in his socks, has a cup of tea and that Kellog's Crunch for breakfast.

So one morning we're both in the kitchen - it's like 5AM and I'm on my second cup of coffee so got a nice buzz going. We're talking about a politician getting a stomach stapling operation and I'm shooting my mouth off - it went something like this.

Me: "Yeah - I can't believe that Tariana Tuira is getting her stomach stapled...!!"
Steve: "Mmmmm...."
Me: "I mean - why the heck do we need to pay for someone who just ate too many pies??"
Steve: ".....uh-huh. Poo..." sniffs the milk "Someone left this milk out again....geez I dunno..."
Me: (not getting that he's trying to change the subject) "Yesterday on air we at talked about having to fund her stomach stapling operation and do you know what I said?"
Steve:  Silent apart front the spoon going around and around in his cup of tea.
Me: "I go, you know what Tariana Turia - I have two words for you. Running Shoes!" And I cracked up.
Steve: Looks at me and goes, "Um...she's my Aunt."
Me: "Whatever Steve..."
Steve: "Tariana Turia is my Aunt. Honestly."
Me: "Oh.......sorry man......" but still not sure if he's having me on or not.
Steve: "It's okay, just thought I better tell you before you went any further..."
And he picked his bowl of cereal and cuppa and walked out.
I felt so stink. I went all warm and started sweating. Damnit I'd done it again.

And to be honest, I have no idea whether he was telling the truth or not, but I've never made a joke about Aunty Tariana Turia again.

Lesson Twenty-Eight: Guys Are Just As Concerned About Their Weight...

Good news ladies, it's not just us who worry if our arse looks fat in our jeans. It's not just us who have regrets after eating our fifth moro bar or second bottle of wine, sucking in our muffin tops as we sip away. Hell, I'm the perfect example. I went to a wedding at the weekend and even after two courses and god knows how many glasses of Chardonnay, I still gobbled up a pie from the service station in New Plymouth, mumbling between bites how far I'd have to run the next day.

Needless to say I never went for that run, however I can now take a backseat to the real star of this story. The Boyfriend. Now, I really love the way he looks - his face and his body. He's tall, he's manly and he's strong. However, he has become a little obsessed with his weight  - he weighs himself a lot, he comments on what food he's eating and then he discovered a website. Now this website is full of like-minded individuals who go from couch-potato chubs to Arnold Schwarzenegger’s over the gradual course of a year - and that's just the women.

The other day I go around to his place expecting a relaxing evening in when he pulls out the measuring tape and tells me to get the camera ready. (And no, the measuring tape wasn't for measuring THAT - it's not long enough anyway.....scoff.)

The Boyfriend has joined this body sculpting website where thousands of people around the world document their weights, measurements and photos to prove that they are transforming themselves. This website also features videos on how to measure neck, chest, bicep, triceps, calves and thighs. So I had to watch EVERY video in its entirety, and then proceed to measure his body parts EXACTLY like they did. I was then given a lesson on how to use some calipers and then preceded to measure his body fat. An hour and a half later (did I mention how I was expecting a relaxing night?) I then had to take photos of his naked upper half, without his face (think the sleazy male photos on www.nzdating.com) until he approved.

All this information is to be loaded onto this website so we can watch his progress through his regular updates as he turns into a mean, fighting, muscly machine. The Boyfriend will do it too - not because he's vain or out to impress, because he's stubborn.

Now, I'd love to show you his progress - however I got the stern word, the hard look and the threat of ending our relationship should the photos stored in my iPhone ever go public. Just as well I saved them in my hard drive here and at work then eh?

Lesson Twenty Seven: Guys Do Remember The Small Things.

I have always thought, through my experiences with men, that guys brains just don’t function like ours do. I mean we girls are all about the details, from matching our lipstick to our shoes, to remembering what aftershave a man wears to the exact wording of a text message we got 12 months ago.

We don’t give our guys enough credit – because they actually do remember the small things. Ok – so The Boyfriend LISTENS but doesn’t HEAR.

Here’s one example that happened about a month ago.

Me: “So my younger sister Krystle is getting engaged – how cool is that?”

Him: “Is that the one who lives in Australia?”

Me: “No, this one lives in Auckland – remember – the one younger than me, the only sister you haven’t met”.

Him: “Oh…yeah yeah….I know the one.”

Two weeks later.

Me: “So my sister finally got engaged in Bali. How cool is that?”

Him: “Is that the older sister who lives in Australia?”.

See – the little things he forgets. I know he was listening but, as usual, he wasn’t HEARING what I was saying.

Or so I thought.

I’m at his place, beer in hand, and chippies to my right, watching the sevens. He’s watching a video on YouTube on how to iron a shirt. (seriously, I am not making this up!) So, he starts carefully ironing his new, fitted black shirt that he looks very sexy in, and he had some very stylish pants ready to iron as well.

Now, The Boyfriend is a very handsome man, however he’s a jeans and jandals guy and in the seven months we’ve been together, I’ve seen him dressed up only three times. The first time was on our first “proper date”, the second, at my work farewell and the third, for my birthday.

So as I watched him learn the perfect ironing technique via YouTube, I thought, “His workmates are so lucky to see him dressed up and looking sexy”.

Two days later, as we sat at the beach eating pizza it went like this: -

Me: “I was watching you ironing your clothes and, I felt very envious of your workmates who get to see you all dressed up”.

Him: “I knew you were thinking that. However, I was I was learning how to correctly iron my shirt not for work. I figure we’ll be going out for dinner on Valentines Day…”  Cue the pause for effect…

Me: speechless

Him: “…so I was getting my clothes ready to wear for Feb 14^th because you've mentioned that you hardly ever see me dressed up."  

Me: Amazed, speechless and very, very chuffed that that little detail, he remembered. 

LESSON TWENTY-SIX: You'd Be Surprised At What A Man Thinks Is Sexy.

This made me laugh out loud while having brunch with The Boyfriend this morning. We’re at a café, I’m jotting down ideas for an award-winning novel I’m going to write one day and he’s happily flicking through the latest NW magazine.  As we wait for our order to arrive I’m conscious he’s looking at the “Hottest Bikini Bodies” issues. Now ten years ago my insecure self would have cancelled my order of bacon and egg ciabatta and gone with the fruit salad. However I sat there feeling quite secure and then he goes, “Ohhh… that’s not sexy. How can they say that’s sexy?”

I casually look over expecting to see a Rosanne Barr or Oprah tabloid shot and instead it’s the very slim bikini gals like Lea Michelle from Glee and Elle McPherson.  The typical females you'd think men would find attractive in their bikini's. Then we start to say which ones we both think are sexy – and it’s the “curvy” ones. Kim Kardashian, Jenny McGrath and Halle Berry – yep, the booby gals. (I think to myself, well I’ve hardly got the same bikini body – but tick for the boobs.)

I go back to my notes and as he’s flicking through the magazine he comes across an advertisement for 'Blackmore’s Pro-definition' - a product for building a lean, toned body. One the left is a really bulked up, muscly female and opposite her is a more toned, leaner lady.

Him: “Now that’s sexy”.

Me: “Which one.”

Him: “The muscly one.”

Me: “What the…? The really bulky chick that looks like a dude – why is that sexy…. Yuk.”

Him: “Well she’s a bit TOO big, but it looks good, besides I know all the effort she’s gone to get that big.”

Me: “So, it’s the effort she took to look like that is what makes this sexy?”

Him: “Yeah, I guess so – and it looks good”.

To be honest, that shocked me more than him ogling over a photo of Kim Kardashian or Salma Hayek.  I mean, this woman was really, really muscly, And it reminded me of a recent comment he’d made last week while walking past a bodybuilder protein shake display: -

Him: “You know baby, you’d make a great bodybuilder.”

Me: (instantly offended) “Why – because you think I’m fat?”

Him: “No you drama – because you’re stubborn enough to do the training. Body builders are lean and disciplined, I never said weight-lifter.”

Now, even though it took me a while to process that feedback, I prefer he said that to me, as it’s closer to what I can achieve, rather than say he wants a Kate Moss or Coco (Ice T's wife with the big booty).  Still – I made sure I left some of that buttery bacon and egg ciabata on the plate next to that magazine when we left.