i have to say that i was intrigued by the debate i unwittingly sparked by my baby bjorn observations the other day. so, yes, as it happens i feel a bit like a giant nob every time i strap the kid onto my chest. i love my baby dearly but, man, it's not a cool look.
the ladies in the house begged to differ. there were many paeans to the hotness of baby-wearing dudes. women even sent me e-mails like this one, from someone who i will only identify as "crazy legs," which attempted to deconstruct the hotness of the bjorn thusly:
good looking guys carrying a baby are HOTTT!!!! [please note the use of triple T's and quadruple exclamation points, please. -- ed.] Unavailable hipster guy sweet enough to carry a baby, it ranks right up there with unavailable bad boy, too angry with the world to give the time of day.
well, then, "crazy legs," can you imagine how much i ought to be scoring by virtue of the fact that i am not only hot, but also both a baby-wearer and an emotionally unavailable asshole? so, mr nice guy decided to put this all to a test. yesterday while the wife was at work i fastened my impossibly adorable child to my ribcage and ventured forth into the strange world of weekday park slope -- a land teeming with nannies, stay-at-home moms, $800 strollers and, apparently, drunken public fornicators. not an ideal sample group for this particular experiment, perhaps, but there are definitely hormones in the air.
the question: exactly how many ladies would hit on mr nice guy during a 90-minute stroll with his baby? who would be able to resist this towering testament to touchy-feely testosterone?
the hypothesis, in the form of a rhetorical question: who could possibly resist?
the result: fucking everyone, that's who.
you know how it is when you see someone walking a large-eyed floppy-eared puppy down the street? people stop, they definitely do. but while they will spend upwards of 5 minutes petting the euphoric tail-wagging dog, cooing over it, speaking in high-pitched voices: "look at you, you baby puppy woo-woo-wooggum-shmoopsie-boopie-baby-bear," and basically wetting themselves over the puppy, they do so without saying a single word to the human being at the other end of the leash, except for, perhaps a perfunctory "she's very cute." ( i know this because i do it all the time.) so. yeah. that's exactly what happened when i took my daughter out for a walk in her baby bjorn. she was wearing a little pink plaid hat and her big almond eyes (which greatly resemble those of frere nice guy, but that is neither here nor there ... right, frere nice guy?) were all open in adorable wonderment. and then guess what happened: the most beautiful women in the world walked right up to me! many times over! and then they promptly bent right over and talked to my baby for what felt like hours without batting a single one of their luxuriously long eyelashes in the direction of my face (sideburned as it may be).
so. final tally:
- women who fell instantly in love with, sung to and generally fussed over my baby, the apotheosis of cuteness: 8.
- women who "hit on" me: -2 (a long story involving the last one-liter bottle of mandarin seltzer water at the bodega and liberal use of the word "schmuck").
and you know what the real pisser about all this is? mrs nice guy wasn't the least bit sympathetic.