There they are. Running into you at the gym or at daycare pickup or at the farmers market: The Cute Dads.
You know what I’m talking about when I talk about Cute Dads.
Most dads, I should point out, are lowercase "c" cute. They may not all be handsome or charming or even that great at being a dad, but to see a guy publicly do his dad thing—to be responsible and caring and a little vulnerable—can be pretty endearing.
But then there are the guys who are Cute Dads. They're good-looking guys who you probably would have had a crush on in high school. Now, guess what, they have kids and families and they live in your area with kids your kids' age and they're even cuter than before, because now they're dads. And there you are, in your bra that doesn't fit anymore (because your breasts don't make any sense) and your sunglasses that you hope are a substitute for putting on makeup and your three week pedicure, trying to do your thing. All of a sudden Cute Dad comes into orbit and you're all out of sorts.
Basically, guys who
are just too much to deal with in real life.
We all deserve the option of running to the grocery store in unflattering
Target sweatpants, in flip flops, without checking to make sure that we don't have any little dots of black sleep crusted in the corners of our eyes. We should all get to do that without running into some Cute Dad. They always lurk, about to pop out from behind the yogurt section, on that day you go out looking like an old woman because you were too lazy to try to blend in your dry shampoo better. If you see a pulled-together mom, well, she sucks, but you know that she gets it.
Cute Dad is always cute no matter what—the more rumpled and bedraggled by children, the better. Not so much for Mom.
You know what, Cute
Dad at karate class pickup? I do not have the bandwidth to come up with a witty reply or to remember
what side we are apparently kissing cheeks on now.
2. Cute dads are often super-charming, which
is the worst.
Super cute guys
are often the friendliest, and why not? The world has been kind to them and
they will be kind back, rewarding all with hugs and smiles and jokes. You know what, Cute
Dad at karate class pickup? I don't have the bandwidth to come up with a witty reply or to remember
what side we are apparently kissing cheeks on now, so just do what I do and keep your face in a cup of coffee and keep a respectable distance because knowing me, I probably haven't brushed my teeth yet.
3. You wonder what it’s like being married to
Of course I think my husband is cute, but he and I are in the same lane, cuteness-wise. Nobody has ever asked either of us if we've thought about modeling. So, I can't help what it's like to be married to a Cute Dad, especially if you're not a Hot Mom. Is it a fun little treat, by and large, to have children with an attractive man, or is it just not worth the exhausting charm and the never-ending curiosity of what other women are thinking about your Cute Dad husband?
I'm thinking about you, wife of Cute Dad.
I hope he doesn't use his cuteness as an excuse not to do stuff around the house. I know it's weird that I'm wondering what it's like to be married to your husband, but I mean no harm. If you should be angry with anybody, it's your husband—he's the one who got us into this mess.
You have to try
to act like you don’t think they're cute.
I actually think women wouldn’t have a hard time letting other women know
they’re exceptionally pretty. If you saw some Hot Mom at your child's school, even though you'd secretly hate on her, eventually in the interest of everybody working together you'd say something like, “I love your hair” or “You always look so pulled-together.”
However, it would definitely be creepy to be like “Hey, your face
still looks great!” to a Cute Dad, especially if you and/or he are married to other people. So you have to continue acting the way you normally do aka a perpetual state of just barely holding it together without letting this guy know how cute you think he is because you're not interested in any drama. You just want to live your life.