Right, listen up. Just because some of us don’t have the children, doesn’t mean we don’t likes the children. Some of us. And it certainly doesn’t mean we don’t likes the men who haves the children and especially those that are full on, hands-on doting papis of the children. Case in point, Daniel Craig.
A photo of James Bond carrying his new baby in a papoose last week, prompted that paragon of alpha masculinity Piers Morgan, to call the actor ’emasculated’. What followed quite literally made all my baby-making equipment cry out for a sweep to get up there pronto to clear out the cobwebs, a fire to smoke out the spiders and a squirt of WD40, in order to grind back into action. It doesn’t mean I want one of my own, but it sure as hell means Mr Craig shot up the hotometer by a gazillion in a nanosecond. That’s a lot and it’s fast; in case you’re wondering. And if you think that photo was attractive, I strongly advise you to take a glimpse at the Twitter thread that followed Morgan’s complete and utter nonsense. Ladies and gentlemen – I have never fallen so deeply in love with so many men in so little time – to quote Churchill. Father after father after father posted their photos of themselves with their offspring snuggled into them like some sort of collective paternal siren luring me onto the craggy rocks of motherhood…… Dear Lord alive, for the love of sweet baby Jesus and Holy Mary Mother of God!!! *crosses self*, the minxes.
The attraction of an actively involved father needs no explanation, but I am of course going to, nonetheless. Natch. There is something devastatingly attractive about a man so comfortable and openly loving and caring of his offspring. Something primal, I’m sure, that comes from the very depths of your ancient ancestors’ ovaries that tells you he’s a keeper – not afraid to demonstrate love and affection and a protector. Swoon, swoon and swoon some more. Then there’s also the beauty of dating a father, which is that you get all the good stuff and loveliness and love and affection and the good fun times (I quite literally lost my adult mind with excitement at Port Aventura attraction park last year, with my ex and his kids), and you don’t have all that other stuff. You know…… hhhmmm, what’s it called? *clicks fingers*…. Eerrrmmm, oh yeah, yeah…….. responsibility!
So quite literally everyone’s a winner. Baby – bonds (pardon the pun) with daddy and grows up to have a healthy un-fucked-up relationship with him, hot papi himself – he gets all the sweet loving from everyone (children, own and others’, mums at school and his partner). And ultimately Annie P (insert your name here) who takes home the ultimate prize; a man in touch with his own feelings, happy expressing them and so comfortable in his own masculinity that he’d probably put her in that sling, if she asked him nicely, and not feel ’emasculated’.
A man who is not scared that wearing his baby in public will cause his penis to fall off, well, there ain’t nothing sexier than that.