Save me!

So a couple of months ago, the md of my company, Big D, decided to offer his workers the opportunity to explore the wonders of the aquatic world by offering to organise and pay half of the fee for a scuba diving course. With my new found singledom, I was all for the opportunity to expose myself to something a little out of the ordinary and signed up with enthusiasm.

Alarm bells started ringing as without setting a toe in the water I purchased a wetsuit, mask, snorkel, booties, and fins. But how hard could it be really?

I shortly got my answer, when on the first day of diving, I found myself inhaling water underwater due to a faulty regulator, while D ruptured his eardrum and another colleague couldn't stop vomiting - did I mention this was all in a swimming pool?

But I decided to push through - the next weekend we set out to Bass Lake, which is essentially a big hole in the ground filled with murky green water, algae and a bus. Now when it comes to scuba diving, I can get over the concept of breathing underwater - no problem, until you try and force me out of my little underwater cocoon - created by my mask. On the final dive, the dive instructor, Ms S, tried to get me to take my mask off underwater. I was having absolutely none of it. I refused point blank, without so much as making half an attempt. Ms S was mystified, and gestured frantically underwater trying to get me to do it. Being a Taurean, the more someone tries to pressure me into doing something I don't want to do, the less chance there is of me ever attempting it. It eventually ended up in her ordering me out of the slimey lake.

As I'm about to head off for my holiday to Zanzibar, I was determined to get this darn divers certification, and headed back, with much intrepidation two weeks later. As I pulled up to our little divers' gazebo, I noticed Ms S was nowhere in sight. In her place was the dishy Blue Eyes - this hadn't been part of the plan at all!

I informed Blue Eyes of my problem, and he assured me everything would be ok. He held tightly onto my BCD (scuba jacket for the non scubas out there) and watched with those big blue eyes while I gladly flung off my mask underwater - something I would never have done for Ms S. Floating weightlessly underwater, with Blue Eyes there to protect me left me... well... swooning.

And this finally gets me to the topic of this post - the Damsel in Distress syndrome. Now, I'm a fairly independent woman. I live on my own, drive around alone at night, I can change a lightbulb and work full time. So why is it that there is still this tiny nagging part of me that loves to be saved?!? This isn't the first time this has happened to me. I remember several years ago, while out at a dam in Magaliesberg somewhere, I was walking across muddy rocks into the water, when I slipped... Suddenly a strong arm grabbed me from behind and lifted me back onto my feet. I turned around and the boy I hadn't even given a second glance the entire weekend had suddenly morphed into Superman... and there I was again... swooning.

I guess at the end of the day - I don't want a man to support me financially, or to baby me, or save me emotionally - but a little rescue here and there, where men can really be MEN doesn't hurt.