The Original Mentally Sexy Post

The new website is not quite ready so, as promised, here is the post that spawned the Mentally Sexy Movement. As you can see, the competition has evolved a hell-of-a-lot since then. - RD.

I hate soup but it’s the requested dish and while I’m doing my best to be enthusiastic about making it I’m far too conscious of the fact that I’m really just trying to turn water into a meal even though I’m wealthy enough to buy real food. Reservoir Mum is standing by the sink expressing milk with an electronic pump, watching me. I suggest that we could try eating some nicely grilled grass-fed cow and then drink a glass of water afterwards but she won’t have it.

I can’t hide the fact that I’m annoyed. 'Soup is Nana food,' I tell her. 'After I’ve finished cooking I’ll knit myself a nice blanky to hide my incontinence pad and keep my legs warm.'

I glance at her for a response but I get nothing and my gaze is drawn, predictably, to her boobs. They are being savagely handled by the electronic pump and I am suddenly conscious of the fact that they have received a lifetime’s worth of attention at the hands of milk-sucking machines and children and I feel anxious as I wonder if I will be allowed any access at all when it's finally my turn to handle them again.

As I begin to peel carrots I am taken over by a nightmarish image of myself waiting in line to sit on Santa’s lap. There are thousands of kids and machines ahead of me. I can’t take my eyes off his rosy red cheeks and all I want to do is get close enough to squeeze them but as the hours and days pass and the line shortens and it’s finally my turn Santa – who is just totally over all the attention – tells everyone that he’s going for a quick cigarette behind the carousel and we never see his rosy red cheeks again.

I realize that to ensure Reservoir Mum doesn’t one day disappear behind a carousel I will have to hold her interest in me by maintaining my current level of sexiness for eternity and as the dirty peel falls from the carrot and reveals the more appealing orange flesh beneath I consider removing my shirt, or perhaps even cooking in the nude, to titillate the good lady wife. As well as doing this I may also need to stop complaining about making soup as I’ve heard that constant complaining and sooky-ness can be a turn off to some women. Also, I read an article at Dad Blogs that sexiness to a woman is as much mental as it is physical and so I must remember to tell her how sexy I am, on an hourly basis, which will prove to be doubly effective because – yes – women are mental but they also like to talk a lot.

After removing my shirt I turn to her and say, 'My abs are visible all the time now.'

I’m overwhelmed when she says, 'I’ve noticed.'

'Yes,' I tell her, 'It’s like I’m wearing armor.'

Wow. Turning on women seems effortless and I’m more than chuffed. I remove my pants to combine the visual with the mental and deliver the killer punch. I’m so pleased with myself that my imagination runs away from me and I see myself standing shoulder to shoulder with all the other Dads at the Northern Dads Group. We are dressed in Leopard-spotted loin-cloths and sexy young women are marching up and down inspecting us carefully in order to bed the one they find most attractive. Again and again they choose me.

'You know,' I say to Reservoir Mum, "I’m certain, that if the whole Northern Dad’s Group was standing in a line wearing nothing but loin-cloths most women would choose me as the most attractive.'

I am just about to put the carrot down when Reservoir Mum says, 'I don’t know… Jack’s fairly good-looking.'

I suddenly feel cold. Jack is good looking. He’s also very smart and – who the fuck knows – he probably loves soup. Suddenly I see myself one back in the order of most attractive and before I know it I am comparing myself to each Dad individually. Simon is an artist and a teacher and has a head full of hair. Dan helps the underprivileged and has a sexy accent. Joe builds houses and lives in a nice leafy suburb. Kelvin is a librarian who knows a lot about books. Tony is very exotic and champions women’s rights.

My confidence wanes as I realize that while I may outmuscle them all physically and even break even with several of them when it comes to having things like a nicely shaped head or semi-dreamy eyes I have to be honest with myself – I am being slaughtered when it comes to the mental side of sexy. Simon’s art and Dan’s caring-ness and Joe’s vision and Kelvin’s cataloging genius and Tony’s awareness of female issues versus my blogging which, in all honesty, does nothing more than highlight my growing insanity and my constant desire to talk about myself.

I imagine that I am part of Reservoir Mum’s harem and all the other Dads are eating grapes in the bathing lounge and waiting to be summoned while I mop the hallways and try not to annoy everyone with my constant limping.

When I look down at the cutting board I see that I have absentmindedly peeled the carrot into a thousand transparent slivers and I have my arms folded across my bare chest. I feel vulnerable and afraid.

As I pull on my clothes I consider the fact that being mentally sexy means not complaining about making soup and so I make the effort to stop this, immediately, but I try to be subtle about it by making up a story, 'You know, when I was a boy a school bully poured soup on my crotch while I was sitting in the middle of the quadrangle and everyone called me soupy-pants for an entire year. Making this soup today has been hard but I feel that it has been necessary for me to let the incident go. I think I am ready to enjoy soup again.'

When I turn to her I see that she’s staring at me intently and after a moment of deep reflection she says, 'I think you’re mental'

Bingo. I feel as if I am on the road to being sexy on multiple levels and I have this confirmed when she reaches over, squeezes my butt and whispers, ‘I liked it better when you cooked naked.’

I watch her walk out the door minutes later and I can’t help but feel that, despite my obvious shortcomings, the world continues to turn just for me. I stare triumphantly at the water as it cooks in a big pot with the real food and I formulate an idea that is so choccas-full-of-genius that it will allow me to challenge the other Dad’s and steal the title of Most Mentally Sexy Dad in one short year – every Monday, starting January 4 2010, I will post a photo of a recognizable pair of my own underwear on a new object, animal, or person. It will run for fifty weeks total. The final ten weeks will be a countdown featuring my underwear on the top ten Most Mentally Sexy Dads and will end on week fifty with my underwear where it rightfully belongs – on the chief selector and therefore Most Mentally Sexy Dad ever. Me.