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 I often talk tough and straight-acting. I do like football enough to not actually notice what Simon Black’s legs look like in shorts. I also like motor sports enough to not actually have picked-up on the rather plucked and pruned appearance of Craig Lowndes’ eyebrows.
But when it comes to fishing, I have always watched from afar with admiration for the activity. But I have only held a rod in my hand perhaps a few times, most of which were in my childhood. I have certainly never caught a fish.
All that changed in the past week on our holiday in the far north of our sunburnt country. I caught not only one Spanish Mackerel, but five of the spiny bastards... and a catfish... but we weren’t allowed to keep that one.
What a rush! What a day! What a manly thing to do!
Which it would have been if most of the hard work wasn’t done by the guide. In fact, all I did was cast the line (which I had to be told how to do multiple times by hubby), and reel in the fish when I felt a bite (which was easy since every line was double hooked). The guide did all the dirty work. He baited up the hooks. He netted the fish in from the water when we caught them. He made the final kill of the fish once it was on-board, he put them in the ice-box... and then when we returned to shore, another old fella at the caravan park did all the gutting and cleaning and filleting. All we had to do was pick up the fillets when he was done.
 Except that neither of us really eat fish.
It was the perfect introduction to fishing for the Modern Gay Man.
Apart from a few dried salt marks on our jackets and a designer thong-tan on our feet, we came out of the experience having caught numerous fish without really getting dirty at all.
So next time you feel the need to assert your often overlooked masculinity, I strongly suggest you go fishing on a charter with a guide who pretty much does all the work for you.
You get bragging rights with the boys when you get back because you’re a full grown man again... and you can still get away from the whole experience without even a blister on a finger.
And isn’t that what life is all about?
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