Boyfriends, a wife's privilege

Boyfriends, a wife's privilege

JAKARTA (JP): I would not have realized the vivacious wit of my garbage man, or what an interminable, unflagging walking and talking encyclopedia my gardener was, had Idul Fitri not rolled around and taken my maids to their hometowns. These guys are what my wife refers to as "her boyfriends".

As he swung the trash can with the practiced ease of a professional baseball batter, the garbage man talked non-stop about the fate of the world, the floods in Jakarta, and how they are planning to send trash to the moon now that the earth's landfills are full.

Standing in my bunny slippers and pajamas, I almost didn't want this intriguing monologue to stop. Or maybe it was a subconscious excuse not to go back and make my own bed -- a task I had dreaded from the day I started walking until we came to Indonesia two years ago.

The bell shrilled again, and the next boyfriend was the milkman. Holding the pan, I positioned myself comfortably for another heart-to-heart -- I was disappointed. This man averted his eyes as if ashamed to see me take the milk in my own house.

"Oh, he's just a very decent guy," dismissed my wife.

But what was I to do? Disguise myself with a false beard, goggles and trench coat? Run out, take the milk and run back again? No way. This was my home and I had every right to take the milk openly, and with my dignity intact.

"You have not met my favorite one yet," teased my wife. "The vegetable man. He's the one that diligently keeps us up to date about the happenings in the neighborhood. He has been very helpful and I am going to give him a big present for Idul Fitri this year."

"Should that make me as green eyed as a psychopathic sibling?" I asked, "What if I referred to my secretaries as my girlfriends?"

The lift of half an eyebrow was answer enough. Wives have privileges, we men do not.

-- Rohan Manav