As a *mumbles millennial age* adult who didn’t grow up in the days of dudes pretending to be in the Roman Empire on TikTok, hanging out with friends used to mean doing things like making eye contact and talking about important topics such as who you had a crush on and what the hottest things a guy could do were. (To answer your Q, no, my adolescence did not pass the Bechdel test.) Mind you, this was all before any of us had ever even been kissed, but still. Society raised me to dream about my future hubby since birth, dammit, and boy, did I.
Since you asked, back in the day, I imagined my (then-fictitious) man to be rich, tall, and handsome because I’m as basic as they come. He’d have a singing voice like Michael Bublé and wear a leather jacket à la John Travolta in Grease. Sometimes, he’d look like Johnny Depp from Pirates (yikes), and other times, like Damon Salvatore in The Vampire Diaries (still hot).
Naturally, the qualities I’ve looked for have ebbed and flowed as I’ve gotten older. So much so that now? The hottest things a guy could do are a little less “push me against a wall and ravish me” and a little more “push a cart around the grocery store and actually get the shit we need and the brands we like.” Dudes, take note. The bar is so low for hetero ladies, doing literally any of the below will ensure you don’t die alone.
Nothing truly makes me contemplate divorce more than the daily(!) debate about what we should have for dinner. Do I want to cook something? (No. Never.) Do we want Uber Eats? (Yes. Always.) Should we just read some Sylvia Plath and put our heads in the oven? (Probably.) I understand that one person deciding on sustenance can feel controlling, but I also know that absolutely nothing is sexier than a man just taking over in the kitchen, the shopping cart, or, best of all, rolling up with some Taco Bell without a 45-minute debate on whether or not we’re in the mood for Mexican food. It’s Mexican food. We’re always in the mood.
Clean the Bathroom
It’s hard to pinpoint the exact worst part about sharing a bathroom with someone you regularly fellash. Could it be the skid marks he leaves in the toilet post-shit or the tiny, black, pube-like hairs that litter the counter post-shave? The mere concept of scrubbing the tub or rinsing the sink after spitting toothpaste doesn’t seem to compute, which is why coming home to a sparkling bathroom — one that didn’t involve me ruining my mani or hiring a cleaning service — would be enough to make me drop my panties (…into the hamper, because I’m not an animal) and get wet (in my scum-free shower).
Go to Therapy
Daddy issues? Mommy issues? BDE on an LD dude? There’s a therapy for that, and chances are, it would do wonders for any and every straight dude trying to get laid. Not only will they learn the art of communication, conversation, and commitment, but the shrink might even tell them to stop with the man-spreading because if you ever want someone to cuddle up next to you, you can’t take up the whole goddamn couch. Instead of namedropping your ex, namedrop your psychologist and watch your future wife’s pupils dilate in desire.
Take On The Mental Load Of The Family
You know what’s cute? Being in charge of keeping every living thing and every schedule running in the fam without so much as a fucking thank you. Dog needs shots? Grandma needs a get-well card? Partner needs his ass wiped? It’s all on you! Except — and here’s a bizarre thought — what if it wasn’t?
What if the leading man of your life took an active role in making doctor’s appointments, planning date nights, and remembering his own mom’s birthday? And not even in a “you have to remind him to call the GP appointment so he doesn’t die” or “you put his witch of a mother’s birthday on the hallway calendar even though seeing her name makes you shudder” way. But in a he-thinks-of-it-and-does-it-and-you-don’t-even-have-to-worry-or-nag-about-it way. Are your nipples hard thanks to that image? Because mine sure are!
Understand Female Anatomy
PSA to all my preemptively pissed-off dudes: We’re not asking someone to go down on us for hours or do whatever weird move they saw in the porn they recently lied about watching. But maybe just, like, open a fucking 8th-grade science book or spend 20 seconds Googling how the vagina works. Less than a minute on the subject will inform you that the chaotic jackhammering you’ve been doing since college is absolutely not cutting it. If that feels like too much (because, ew! Learning about your partner’s anatomy!), buy a vibrator and suggest bringing it to bed with you. Your penis will never do what a pulsating thruster can, so if you can’t beat ‘em, use it to help beat your partner off.
Stand Up To His Mother
Back to the woman who gave birth to that special man in your life…what if your guy, just once, reminded his mother that you didn’t actually steal him away so you don’t have to resort to writing passive-aggressive articles on the internet as a way to vent?
Are you asking for her to wish you a happy Mother’s Day for once, even after you let her stay at your house for a month when you were two days postpartum and leaving a snail trail of milk and blood everywhere you waddled? Nope! But maybe he could kindly suggest she just not act like you’re a surrogate for her grandchild or an evil succubus whose life goal is to pit her son against her. Maybe! And who knows? With all that extra free time he’ll have while his mom is inevitably moping, perhaps he can spend a little more time on the list item above because I guarantee he still can’t find the clit without a compass.