Imagine, if you will, that you are a young professional woman. Through your profession you meet a man, a well dressed, well-groomed man. You fall for each other, date, and as people are wont to do, you move in together.
So fine, so rosy.
Imagine then, again if you will, in a short space of time, this charming man reveals himself to be Wayne Slob. He cuts his toenails in the kitchen, he leaves the toilet seat up, he leaves cups everywhere. He turns from sexy right, to an intolerable and unhygienic wrong. You begin to question whether you find him sexy any longer, possibly while removing a toe nail clipping from your carefully Nana knitted cereal.
What to do!? What to do?!
Now me, I’m old school. Were I to discover I lived with a person who had full use of his limbs, was capable of feeding himself, but remained a lazy dirty slob I might take a number of actions. I might, A) come to some arrangement whereby the housework comes under my remit but only if all cooking chores are undertaken by him. Or B) yell all the time, making myself hoarse and him wonder what kind of scary harpy he had attached himself too, or C) move into separate accommodation.
But dag nabbit I had forgotten to take into account option D) the ‘sexy house work’ routine!
For verily what woman does not consider dressing in a french maid’s outfit while bleaching out the bath? Who does not automatically ponder ‘now where is my latex catsuit?’ while emptying the rancid kitchen bin that you’ve both been playing Jenga with for over a week? Need to strip the beds? Strip yourself first foxy mama! Litter trays starting to hum? Jiggle those boobie pasties and drop your bootie on down while you scatter the low odor wood pellets, jiggle it, jiggle it, he might be watching from his place on the sofa. Now sing, SING my pretties, let the Dyson lift you higher! Soar on the fumes of anti-bacterial spray! ‘I believe can fly, wooooo I believe I can touch my thigh,’ no wait…oh, getting dizzy from wearing my thigh high leather boots on the landing. Say, I wonder whatever happened to Shake ‘n Vac…
Finally (!) when all of this sexy cleaning is done, you can lie on your freshly laundered rubber sheets, glare at the mirror screwed into the ceiling over your bed ( is that a smudge?) and think back to a time when you used to be an adult and wonder where it all went horribly wrong.