Recently, I was helping my friend Jordan get all moved into her new apartment. We were moving furniture and spackling and sanding walls — home Improvements way beyond my “Tim the Toolman Taylor” skills.

It made me wish there was a service of men who came and lifted heavy things and fixed up things for single women — in exchange for pizza and beer.

For example, my new flat screen is just leaning against its box because I don’t have a boyfriend to hang it for me, and I cashed my guy friend’s favors in with helping me build a desk … following my emotional breakdown in the middle of Ikea.

I was pushing one of those massive carts through the self-help furniture section, trying to put a 10 X 15 foot glass desk top into the cart by myself.

After almost blowing out my back like an old man with a hernia, I gave up. I went and asked a sales clerk if he could help me gather the pieces and have it delivered and installed.

“Yes, ma’am, but there is an extra fee for that, but you still have to gather the furniture yourself.”

Tears started welling up in my eyes, ready to flow like my period was.

“What the *bleep*, how am I suppose to do that? Can’t the single girl get some kind of break. I mean, I already have to pay extra. I was never good at legos, so how am I supposed to build furniture? I already have to do this shit myself because I don’t have a boyfriend or even a boy toy to do it for me. The least y'all can do is help me gather my damn furniture.”

“You’re Brittney Cason, aren’t you? I thought I recognized you,” the timid Ikea salesclerk responded. “I like your column.”

Great. The only person who would recognize me in Charlotte just happened to witness my emotional breakdown tantrum.

I changed my tune as dramatically as I was acting and apologized. “Well, as you can see, it’s all non-fiction.”

He graciously, out of pity, helped me get the furniture and put it in my car. And then I lured my guy friends over with the promise of a homemade meal to put it together. Funny how much more helpful men are when they’re trying to sleep with you. I try to avoid asking those guy “friends” for favors as they can go from “Tim the Toolman Taylor” to just “Tim the tool” doing an act of kindness out of horniness, and expect the booty, as payment.

So there’s a nice little business model for guys — mini handymen that work odd jobs for food. I can cook! … and I need a TV installed, some light bulbs way out of my reach changed and my old TV taken to Goodwill. Any takers? In fact, you can just have the TV.