I have broken the male code and told Mary how to get balky lids off bottle. Since I’ve already betrayed my gender, I might as well make it public.
You know the drill. Woman takes bottle out of fridge or off a back shelf. She wraps her hand around the lid if her hand is big enough, strains to turn, and the lid doesn’t budge. She may try once more with a dish towel around the lid for better purchase. Still no movement.
Woman turns to man assuming one is handy. “Here, big strong boy, please open this for me.”
Man takes the bottle in hand, disdains the dish towel wrapper. The veins pop out in his forehead and his arm muscles (if not covered by fat) ripple. He grunts. “Here, my dear.” He hands her the jar with the now loosened lid.
In words or looks she says “Oh, you’re so strong.”
But it’s fraud! The popping veins and bulging muscles are used, as a magician would, to distract attention from what the hands are really doing. As the torque is ramped up, the top hand wiggles the lid. Every stuck lid yearns to be free. Brute pressure against whatever is blocking the threads rarely helps; but the wiggle lets the lid find its own path to release. It’s all in the wiggle.
Of course, now that Mary can open anything she can get her hands around, I am of even less use during food preparation. That’s the price of being a traitor to my gender.