Honey had a men's-wear shop. During Bolton's annual 'Midnight Madness' event she asked me to play some tunes in the glass foyer that housed the building's stairs and the entry to her shop. It had a door to enter from the street and I felt like a caged musician ... kids opened the door and threw in pennies. When it was over Honey and I went for a beer. I always liked Honey and still do ... but when she started listing all the things that men were good for the list was short, dirty-chore-oriented and, shall I say, functional. Understandable - her heart had recently been trampled. Even so, I went home feeling I had just witnessed the death of romance ... aha ... great title for a song. Tried, but the well was dry and the muses would have nothing to do with it ... nothing, that is, until I turned the title on its head. The song wrote itself.
Months later ... after the tablesaw mishap had rendered my left hand useless ... dear friend Laura Bird learned the song and sang it for this recording.
Lack Styles played guitar too.