Setting: the dining room, one quiet evening several weeks ago. Dianna is skillfully wrestling a 5-gallon** bag of soymilk into the milk dispenser.
Lisa: Do you want me to get a large male to help you with that?
Me: Of course.
Lisa: 'Cause I can tell that you need one.
Me: I'd definitely appreciate someone else taking over this manly task from me.
Lisa: Well, I know you're not physically up to it.
Me: And I just shouldn't be doing it, anyway. [disappearing into kitchen to recycle milk box]
Me: [returning] It's a lot less fulfilling when I do things like this myself, you know?
Lisa: You'd feel better if there were a male around. You'd start talking to him.
Me: My gratitude would be overwhelming.
Lisa: You could even hope to start a relationship.
Me: Isn't that the only reason for me to try to do this in the first place?
Contrary to what people like to say, chivalry is dead. That's my bad -- I stabbed it in the nuts*** with a fork and stuffed it in the compost bin.
**40 pounds, according to my feeble feminine calculations.