This post may be lengthy, as I have a fair bit to say on this topic: the impact that doing housework has on a man’s attractiveness. It’s a topic I’ve been meaning to address here for some time. So please, bear with me!
Recently, I saw “The Town”. It’s a movie. With Ben Affleck in it.
Looking like this.
Oh, there was also this other guy in it. Jon Hamm? I’m not really a fan, but know a lot of you are…so here you go. (I don’t watch Mad Men, but perhaps, perhaps in fact I should.)
It’s no secret that Ben Affleck is, physically, the type of man that many women swoon over. C’mon, did the sight of those pecs not bring a teensy smile to the corners of your mouth? Of course they did!
And if they didn’t – well you should scroll back up and take a second look.
Or, you could just take a second look.
Anyhow, we’re all human. Just like my husband admits he thinks Kate Beckinsale and…..Tania Doko of Bachelor Girl is hot (from the now defunct B-grade rock band. Personally I’ve moved on from the 90’s, but each to their own).
Back to Ben. Perfect pecs aside, I wonder, does Ben help Jen where it really matters? I mean with the housework. Does he put those pectoral muscles to good use and mop the floors? Vaccum? Hang out the laundry? Chop firewood? Put simply, does he do his fair share around the marital abode?
In reality of course, I’m sure Ben & Jen have cleaners and maids to help them with all that sort of thing. But my point is, would Ben’s wonderous pecs really have as much appeal if he did zero housework?
Actually don’t answer that. Just stay with me on this!
Hollywood aside, allow me to paint you two scenarios that may be a little closer to home.
Scenario 1: It’s witching hour. The kids are running riot – one nude, using the sofa as a trampoline; the other having a tantrum in the middle of the floor, limbs flailing. You are tired. Premenstrual. You haven’t cooked dinner. You hear someone walking round to the back door…it’s your husband. He must have been to the gym after work, as he’s in his gym gear. He is wearing a singlet and his chest looks amazingly taut, his pecs rippling, his stomach flat and toned. He opens the door, gives you a kiss, and announces, “hi darling, I just wanted to come home early today to be with you all. I love you, sweetie!” Your husband then proceeds to get changed, have a shower and plonk himself in front of the TV. You hear him ask “what’s for dinner?” in between the kids’ screams.
Scenario 2: It’s witching hour. The kids are running riot – one nude, using the sofa as a trampoline; the other having a tantrum in the middle of the floor, limbs flailing. You are tired. Premenstrual. You haven’t cooked dinner. You hear someone walking round to the back door…it’s your husband. It looks like he’s had a hard day. His little beer gut wobbles slightly under his shirt as he opens the door, briefcase in one hand. He gives you a kiss and announces, “darling, I came home early because I suspected you were needing a little break. It’s ok. I’ll take over here.” He hands you the car keys. “Go and get your nails done, or go for a walk – whatever you like, I’ll do this”, and waves you off. You grab the car keys and run do as he says. You return a couple of hours later, to the kids bathed and in their pyjamas. Dinner is prepared, a load of washing done and hung out. The house, oddly, smells of eucalyptus. Your husband explains. “Oh, the smell – just thought I’d mop the floors.”
So which has more appeal? You can see where I’m heading here.
Let’s quickly cut to life Before Children (BC). Back in the days when pecs actually mattered.
Before getting married, I was part of the dating scene for about a decade or so. Without delving into my sordid past dating history, after a while I loosely formed my own personal ‘dating checklist’. I’m being honest here. It went something like this.. Dark-haired. Blue eyes (green OK). Funny. Tall. Great smile. Courteous. Smart. Good physique. In a decent job. Career-focused. Educated. Intelligent. Well-endowed. Romantic.
Ha, fussy I know. But do you see “Does Housework” included anywhere? No, because back then, it didn’t seem to matter very much.
Fortunately, I found someone who satisfied the above (except for the blue eyes!) and things got serious. One weekend, when we were lazing about reading the papers, as you do when there are no small children around, he declares, “I think I’ll scrub the kitchen floor.”
“OK” I replied, and watched as he got down on his hands & knees to start cleaning the floor. Energetically. I watched as my husband-to-be removed every piece of dirt and bits of parsley off those white kitchen tiles.
Was I er, floored by the fact he was cleaning the floor? Nope. Admittedly, at the time I was more interested in watching his Ben-Affleck-like pecs and toned latissimus dorsi flexing as he scrubbed.
Silly young thing that I was.
I laugh at that now, as fast forward eight years and two kids later, do the pecs matter? No, they don’t. Does he still have those Ben-Affleck-like pecs and a washboard stomach? No. (Do I still have boobs to rival any Hooters girl and a stretchmark-free body? Yes, but I’m a freak of nature. Kidding.)
Nowadays, I couldn’t care less about the pecs. Because my husband, despite working 10 hour days, will still help me cook, clean up, stack the dishwasher, feed the kids, change nappies, hang the clothes out, get up in the middle of the night to help settle the kids, and do other jobs if I ask him. Without too much of a fuss 😉
Yup, I am definitely of the view that housework maketh the man.
So men of the world: forget pecs, forget six packs. Instead, surprise us by donning a pair of yellow gloves, grab a bucket of soapy water, and start scrubbing that dirty floor..
..And you never know just how we may surprise you in return.
Those yellow gloves are so doing it for me. Ben who?
If you made it to the end of this post, thank you! So what’s your view on all this? Or am I just a sick weirdo for finding men who do housework sexy?