ManServants Are a Real Thing You Can Buy: Here's What I'd Do With Mine

I am not great at being waited on.

Unless it’s something I can’t do myself –- like opening jars AM I RIGHT, LADIES? –- I don’t really like other people doing things for me. I love restaurants where they just leave a big carafe of water on the table; I’m really good at pouring water and I’m sure the wait staff have better things to do than make tiny trips every five minutes just to refill my glass.

I’m sure this stems from my visceral aversion to being rude to anyone in the service industry. People are terrible, and every single person who works in customer service has a binder full of horror stories. My stepdad was always a real dick to wait staff (he once sent back eggs at a DENNY’S because they were “over-poached”) and as a child, I would panic at the thought of having to eat out with him. He thought paying five bucks for breakfast made him King of the Diner and he was a real King Joffrey.

I spent a large portion of my childhood trying to compensate for his terrible behavior by being extra nice and accommodating to servers, never sending things back and sneaking portions of my allowance onto the table when I knew he had under-tipped.

What I’m trying to say is that I have issues when it comes to being waited on, which is too bad, because I will never know the bliss of having my own ManServant.

The video makes a good point about male strippers; they've always seemed pretty silly. Why would you pay to get a penis waved around in your face? Nothing against penises, but I’m pretty sure I can spend five minutes on Craigslist and get that for free.

ManServants are not strippers. In fact, they are expressly forbidden for having their genitals in or around a lady’s face. A line from their very strict code of conduct reads: “A ManServant keeps his penis in his pants and out of the lady’s face.”

Deal.

Actually, it might be worth hiring a ManServant for this feature alone. With so many dudes trying to get their dick out of their pants and into your face, one who was forbidden by contract from doing this would be nice to have around.

But if I were to hire one of these dudes, it wouldn't be to pour me champagne (I love opening bottles of champagne) or to have him turn the pages of my book. It would be for the things that I really don't like doing. I can push my own baby (dog) around in a stroller, thank you very much. That is an activity I would enjoy.

My ManServant would only be utilized for those tasks I truly find distasteful. The following would be his cross to bear:

There is literally no conversation more boring to me than talking about diets. I will talk about food all day long, but I don't want to hear about what you are not eating. If you are Paleo and want to talk about great meat-based recipes, I'm all yours. But if you want to talk to me about how much weight you've lost on your juice cleanse (while I'm trying to eat a cupcake), I will refer you to Gil.

Gil is my imaginary ManServant I have hired to take my place in conversations such as these. He’s a really good listener, and will do a much better job of making you feel heard than I will. Trust me; this is better for everyone involved. (Even Gil -– he’s Paleo, too!)

I may also make Gil talk to people about GMOs and toxins, but first I have to see where he stands on these issues.

Voicemails are just terrible. I listen to them with the phone held half a foot away from my ear, deleting them as soon as I have enough information to know that it’s OK to delete. Assuming Gil is decent at distinguishing “important information” from “a reminder that you’re due for a dental cleaning,” I would foist the wretched device on him until it is free of that little red number.

Is there anything worse? This is may be the only task I am perfectly capable of doing but would gladly defer to someone else.  I've heard they don’t let you pump your own gas in Oregon. Reason 765 I can’t wait to move there.

If you can pay a ManServant to compliment you every 15 minutes, you can pay him to give you a truly honest answer to the question "How do I look?"

My husband can't be trusted with this. His judgement is compromised by love or something, which is great 90% of the time. He always thinks I look bangable, but sometimes I'm not going for "bangable." Sometimes I just want to know if this particular shade of lipstick is making my face look like a tomato. Sean would tell me I was pretty if my face looked like an eggplant.

Gil would tell me true. He would have to. I wouldn't be asking if he thought I was hot or pretty or any of that -- I don't care if Gil wants to bang me -- I'm just looking for the facts. "Do my eyes look level with each other?" "Has my nose moved around on face?" "Do I need to put on a bra?" No matter how ridiculous the question, Gil would answer honestly.

A duvet cover is a riddle, wrapped in an enigma. It should be easy, like putting a giant pillow into a giant pillow case, but it never is. I'm convinced that once it's inside its cover, a duvet becomes a shape shifter, losing all corners and turning in on itself. Sean and I have had actual fights about whose turn it was to wrestle with this beast.

Let Gil fight this battle.

Poor Gil. This is not what he had in mind at all. He thought he was going to live a life of alcohol pouring and push-ups.

What do you all think of this service? Is it better than a male stripper? Worse than a male stripper? What would you have Gil do?