Unday # 3 - The Search For Australia's Most Mentally Sexy Dad

George developed an understanding several years into our marriage that he was more likely to get me in the mood if he helped with the housework and did his bit with the kids. I’ve always found it hard to get intimate with him if there was a sink full of dishes or a laundry full of dirty clothes waiting.
- Christine, mother of three

Keep your pants on folks, the new pairs of official competition grade Mentally Sexy Underwear will be ready this week and so we’ll have some pairs to mail out to Mentally Sexy wannabes who are too far away from Mentally Sexy Central to do a hand-over.

Also, I’d like to appeal to the partners of the Mentally Sexy entrants. We’d like to include a quote each Unday to give us Mentally Sexy hopefuls an insight into how our efforts affect our better halves. So, women, if you’ve got something to say (see Christine’s quote above for a guide) either leave it as a comment or email it to Reservoir Dad.

Dads, the Mentally Sexy bandwagon is rolling on and who knows where it will take us. American site Dad-Blogs is on board having created a Mentally Sexy link on their website, with the promise of more to come this week, and as the competition intensifies I urge all Aussie Dads to get original with submissions. Take risks, push boundaries and make your Mentally Sexy spiels and photos as eye-catching and creative as possible. The Americans have vowed a mighty fight and we need some seriously motivated, wife-focussed Mentally Sexy Aussie Dads to go toe-to-toe with them.

This is your chance to represent your country at the highest level. Don’t leave it too late. Get your submissions in by emailing resevoirdad@gmail.com

Deano

Today’s entrant is Deano, father of Allanah, 4 and Emily, 2.

"Women hate filthy toilets. Seriously hate them. My wife is no exception. I clean ours every day. Every single day because I know that even if we are emotionally connected and spiritually centred and right on track for a physical connection one short trip to a filthy toilet can shift her mood dramatically. I never want the mood to shift. I love my wife and I want her to be thinking about me, not the toilet."

Unday - The Beginning

Unday 1 - Simon

Unday 2 - Joe

Unday # 2 - The Search For Australia's Most Mentally Sexy Dad

‘Women’s feelings about their husband were shaped by perceptions of fairness around housework,’ she said. ‘If the resentment factor was high that’s when their sex life was not great. The best sex aid a man could use was a vacuum cleaner.’
- Barbara Pocock, director of the Centre for Work and Life, University of South Australia

Cripes! The search for Australia’s Most Mentally Sexy Dad is really taking on the life of a raging love-struck beast. Thanks to everyone for your submissions, enquires and enthusiasm for this world first competition. We are currently in the process of making several other pairs of competition grade Reservoir Dad Mentally Sexy Underwear which will be music to the ears of all our interstate applicants as we will be able – thanks to Australia Post – to reach all corners of Aus.

Dads, it takes a strong man to walk the path of the Mentally Sexy. The early days are not easy and some of you may make several attempts before finally getting it right. Unfortunately, there will also be those who will simply fall by the wayside. I promise you this though – if you are relentless in your pursuit, forever vigilante to your partner's needs and fully committed to the cultivation of the Mentally Sexy Mind, the rewards will come. And what rewards they are!

JOE

Our second contestant is Joe, father of five-year-old Jasmine and two-year-old Rex. Along with this sensational photo Joe offered us this –

"My wife’s generally a pretty relaxed person but if she’s had a rough day or she’s a bit tired I notice that small things can get to her – so I like to keep certain things in order so that she’s able to take it easy and focus more closely on her time with the kids and me. She works her arse off so she deserves it, I reckon. I try to keep the bench tops uncluttered and clean and the kid’s dirty clothes out of sight in the laundry. And because my daughter’s room is in sight from the living room I do my best to keep it neat (which is tough) by packing the toys away and stacking the books in the book shelf. Since pushing myself to maintain a bit of order I’ve noticed that she’s been more relaxed and spontaneously ‘affectionate’. I should have been doing this shit years ago, instead of wasting time and money on those bloody gym memberships."

Unday – The Beginning
Unday #1 – Simon

Unday # 1 - The Search For Australia's Most Mentally Sexy Dad

Just as the applications start to roll in and the search for Australia's Most Mentally Sexy Dad begins in earnest, we hear news from afar that a great challenge looms - American website Dad-Blogs - via co-founder Joe Schatz of "Daddy Where's Your Vagina" fame - has accepted the challenge to run their own competition to crown America's Most Mentally Sexy Dad.

This is now a global fight, Dads. The five most mentally sexy Dad's from each country - as chosen by female judges yet to be named - will battle it out to claim the title of World's Most Mentally Sexy Dad.

The stakes don't get any higher. If you are an Aussie Dad and think you have what it takes to fight for the Australian and World titles email Reservoir Dad - reservoirdad@gmail.com - to enter this heated contest.

Please provide a short paragraph detailing your Mentally Sexy activities and how these have impacted on your relationship with your wife. For examples of what we're after go here and check out, Simon, our first contestant below.

You now have an opportunity to represent your country and become an international super-star. Don't miss out.

On this historical day the people of Reservoir Dad are pleased to present the first contestant in the search for Australia's Most Mentally Sexy Dad.

SIMON

Simon is a father of two young girls and offered us this -

"I've worked hard on my mental sexiness recently. I decided to take note of what bothered my wife on a day to day basis. I found that listening to her before sleep gave me the best indication of what household issues were playing on her mind and then I went about trying to remove those issues if I could. I started slowly by picking up one or two chores and I have to say I noticed a change in her within a few days. I'm a man - I'm ready for intimacy every minute of the day but I'm really starting to appreciate how different women are. They need a clear mind for the mood to hit and that's what I tell myself I'm doing as I unclutter the lounge room or hang out the washing - I'm clearing my wife's head. So when we go to bed at night we're both in the right frame of mind and we're not talking about household chores..."

Unday

Tasty and Licky

It's 5.30am and the traffic is light and I can’t stop scratching this fricken mosquito bite on the inside of my left thigh and as I head to the Elite Sports Performance gym to begin a massive year of powerlifting where I will smash all my previous 'personal bests' I am almost vibrating with excitement and aggression and this is most likely the cause of a white flash of anger that overwhelms me when I see - through the rear vision mirror - that I am being encroached upon by a Red Porche hammering its way towards me in my 1989 faded red Toyota Corolla .

The Porche is very very flashy and supercool and as the right-hand blinker signals the driver's intention to overtake me I am relieved that I fitted my Corolla with two hubcaps and a nice aerial only ten years ago as I am sure this will not go unnoticed.

He's going way too fast and the fact that he's doing so is purely an expression of his desire to dominate me and while I am trying to maintain my rage to attempt a 300 kilogram deadlift at the gym I feel my foot pressing into the accelerator hard and as I fight against the urge to burn this prick off in a car that was previously owned by a ninety-year-old lady who only ever drove it back and forth to the corner Milk Bar I notice that he is not only speeding but also talking on his mobile and the arrogance this displays and the danger he poses to the average motorist gives my accelerator foot no choice but to hammer down hard.

Disappointingly, my Toyota Corolla with the hotted-up aerial has just reached 65 KPH as the Porche begins to disappear over a rise one hundred meters ahead and in a mad rush to gain back some sense of power I attempt to flip the bird to his rear vision mirror but am impeded by the Dictaphone I hold in one hand and the IPod I hold in the other... suddenly I am aware of the fact that I can only really be so furious with his mobile phone-compromised driving if I was equipped with three or possibly four arms and so I sheepishly put the Dictaphone down.

Fuck him anyway. I am going to lift 300 kilograms and I'll be doing it at a place where such a display of useless strength is much more impressive than a useless Porche and a useless suit and a useless pooncy gel-filled hair style.

This frickin mosquito bite itches and the more I itch the closer I get to drawing blood and this reminds me of how badly Archie was bitten last week at a family barbecue and how Lewis escaped unscathed which in turn reminds me of a story that Reservoir Mum told me and in order to remember this story so that I can blog about it later I pick up the Dictaphone again, press the record button and begin to recount the details.

'Well,' I say to the Dictaphone, 'Reservoir Mum is driving Archie, Lewis and Tyson to Nanny and Gramps’ house so that she can go to work and I can pick them up on the way back from the gym.’

I pull up to traffic lights. I suddenly feel like I am being watched. As I turn to the right I see a middle-aged woman sitting in her car. She looks forward – rat-trap fast – when she realises I’ve caught her spying. I reason that she’s probably a bit freaked out by seeing a bald guy who is dressed in filthy filthy powerlifting clothes while sitting in an old lady's car and talking into a dated piece of electronic equipment – like some relic from the days of tape recorders and Rubik's cubes – and I like this very much and so wind down my window and talk loudly in her direction.

‘So, Reservoir Mum told me that, on the way there in the car, Archie licked his fingers and said ‘Mummy I just licked my finger and it was tasty.’ to which Reservoir Mum replied, ‘Don’t lick your finger Arch, you never know what’s on it.’

I look down momentarily as I scratch again at my insect-inspired welt and see that I have created a rash that is approaching the outskirts of my nether-regions. When I glance to my right again I see that the woman is staring at me and shaking her head and I lose some of my previous confidence and feel just a tad self-aware and so speed off as fast as I can to get in front of her when the lights change. I get to about five KPH above the speed limit and put some distance between us so that I can continue recounting the story.

‘And after a long pause Archie says,’ I say, to the Dictaphone…

Another red light allows me to go back to scratching around the mozzie bite's edges, furiously – back and forth, up and down, round and round and damn it all to hell the woman has pulled up beside me again, this time on my left side. To my horror she goes right back to staring at me, with an expression on her face that makes me feel like I am a big pile of poo she’s just stepped in but despite this I am determined to appear as if I am not intimidated by her and I continue, but only after I slink down a little – and whispering...

‘Archie says. “Oh, I know why mozzies bite me Mum – it’s because I’m cool and mozzies don’t like you to be cool.”’

Reservoir Mum says, ‘Maybe that’s it, Archie…’

I turn the Dictaphone off and put it on the seat behind me as I once again race forward to get ahead of the staring woman and I’m feeling rattled – here I was psyched and ready to lift 300 kilograms and now after being attacked by the Porche guy and the staring woman I don’t even know if I have enough energy in the tank to pull 200.

Taking the Dictaphone I do my best to finish the story. ‘Um, then Archie, after licking his finger again, says “Oh! No! Mum! I know why the mozzies bite me now! It’s because I’m so tasty!” and Lewis, who has remained quiet till this point almost bursts from his car seat restraints to say, “Yeah! And I’m licky!”’

I am now convinced that hell has opened up and released this she-devil upon me. I am at the traffic light and she is beside me again. Her eyes burn into me and – having just watched Drag Me To Hell recently – I am approaching a level of fear-induced hysteria. I throw the Dictaphone down, turn to her and mouth, helplessly, the words ‘What do you want from me…’ and then, following her line of vision right down to my groin, I become horribly aware of what furiously itching that area of myself must look like to someone outside my car. I suddenly see that I am not just a bald guy dressed in filthy filthy powerlifting clothes sitting in an old lady's car talking into a dated piece of electronic equipment. To the staring woman I am a bald guy – badly dressed, sitting in a rundown car – who is leering at a middle-aged woman, pleasuring himself and recording the moment for posterity, and that is just filthy filthy filthy.

When the lights change the staring woman takes off and I sit there watching the back of her head as it gets smaller and smaller and I feel just a tad under permanently humiliated.

A few blocks later she finally turns off and I drive on feeling safer, but weak and small, and as capable of a big deadlift as the anti-hero Strawberry Jelly Man – who is not a real anti-hero but someone I made up just now to represent my level of physical power and intellectual esteem.

To prevent myself plummeting further into the realm of insignificance I shuffle through my IPod for something uplifting. The Dictaphone lies beside me like a dead bird. I have forgotten the rest of Reservoir Mum’s story, but she’ll remember, and the fact that I will blog about the funny things my kids say allows me to feel some justification for all the madness I draw into my life. One day they will love to read about the things they said and how I took the time to write about it. That’s what I’m hoping anyway. Plus, the sound of the partially angry song Monkey which is so great – in a gay-ish, George Michael-ish kind of way – may lift me again, if I give it enough time.