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And I'm tired of (and embarrassed about) asking men to come over and kill them. When I was a little girl, I'd ask my father, and that was fine. That's what fathers do. When I got older the recruits grew to become a motley crew that has included ex-boyfriends and current boyfriends (depending on availability), a taxi man who seemed excited at the prospect of having his status changed to 'friend', a ne'er do well who always tried to negotiate sexual favours in exchange, a friend's brother who was driving in from MoBay, a guy who didn't tell me he was in the middle of helping with Sunday dinner and whose girlfriend traced my number to scream at me because it was obvious he and I were involved, because "why else would he drop everything for you, and listen, you can have him if you want him" (I didn't, for the record; I merely wanted him to kill a freaking lizard and he just wanted to escape her clutches for a few minutes), the apartment complex maintenance man, the neighbour guy who tried to help but shrieked like a girl when the lizard leaped off the wall at him — just about anyone who didn't possess ovaries.