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THERE are many behavioural things I have come to accept from the opposite sex.

Some of their habits are actually quite sweet ? in a neanderthal kind of way.

If I'm at a bar and some silly man wants to buy me a drink, I'll accept graciously. If he wants to pay for our meal, by all means, do it. I'm tired of trying to wrestle men for the bill.

While I am more than capable of changing light bulbs, plugs and tyres, if you want to get your hands dirty instead, I won't complain. But of all the things I'll let slide, being late is not one of them.

If you're not into asking for directions, get lost and are late for our date as a result, it will be the last date you ever miss with me.

Why men never ask for help is beyond me. I was with someone of the male persuasion over the weekend. We were at one of the most beautiful spots, probably in the province.

He did manage, however, to drive into a nail, puncturing his tyre. Usually a tyre changing experience takes around two minutes. But an hour later, I was still watching this man struggling with the task. At first, when the job turned into 10 minutes, I asked if he needed my help. "Oh no, I'm fine, I know what I'm doing," was his response. I must admit I started wondering what was wrong with this guy, who seemingly couldn't get the tyre changed.

He eventually swallowed some of his pride and asked me to stick my finger in the hole to secure a bolt. Soon after that, he crushed my finger as he let the wheel slip. Somebody in the car next to us then asked if he needed some help.

"Oh no, I'm fine, I know what I'm doing," was his response again.

Turns out the problem lay in another boy trait: Fixing what's not broken. He had swapped his perfectly fine standard wheels for pretty, customised, more expensive ones. This is why the spare ? a standard wheel ? would not fit.

As the sun was fast disappearing, I urged him to call AA or some kind of roadside assistance. Is this not what we pay insurance for? So that other people can deal with this kind of thing while we enjoy our picnic? Yes, our picnic. The reason we came out here, remember?

Needless to say, he never did make that call. He got that tyre changed after an hour. We ended up eating in the car, because the sun had already gone and it was cold and windy.

I told him it was the universe's way of testing whether he was capable of asking for, or accepting, help. And my dear friend failed miserably.

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