A Nod to the DILF

My friend and I love DILF's. And it's not just for what you'd expect.

There is a bit of a well known phenomenon that involves the lurching of one's ovaries at the sight of some poor bastard who just happens to be holding a newborn baby. Women my age tend to get a bit ridiculous at the sight of a young father fumbling his way around the collapsing of a pram whilst juggling a small child.

Advertising companies have known about this reaction for years and have been milking us for every one of our broody instincts. You know it well people. You've all seen the ad with the naked DILF torso facing away from the camera and the small baby peering over his shoulder at the camera. What that baby is actually saying is, "Yes. Buying this hand cream is going to land you a hot bloke with a six pack and an overwhelming desire to breed gorgeous babies like me."

For those who appreciate the physicality of a hot DILF and a small child, my friend and I recommend one of the Sydney beaches on an early Saturday morning. This is sleep-in day for young mothers and one of my favourite times. Freshwater Beach is literally bustling with hot dads at this time of day and (sorry to be so blatant) they almost always have their shirts off. It's pretty funny watching them actually. Almost none of them have the same level of paranoia about their children swimming in the surf as a young mother would exhibit. There's always a last second panicked dash to pull their three year old out of the wave by the floaties. And you can almost hear their thoughts.

It's not: "Oh my God. How could I be so careless? My child almost drowned! I am a bad father."

It's more like: "Woops. That would have been an ugly conversation with Mel later."

Another classic is the day before Mother's Day. This is shopping day for the DILF. DILF's who almost never venture into shopping centres are forced to grab their children and head to the shops in search of mummy's gift. This day is an absolute favourite of mine. There is nothing more hysterical than seeing the DILF negotiate pram, children, parking, escalator, nappy changing and shopping all at the same time. It is the ultimate in multi-tasking and takes the man completely out of his natural environment. Very funny. Check it out.

But for my mind, the real beauty of the DILF lies in their reality. DILFS have purpose that other men don't. In my experience, men who are fathers tend to be less selfish, more realistic, more balanced, less self-obsessed, more generous, more practical and most importantly better lovers and partners. They get that the world isn't all about themselves. They understand that having children doesn't end your life as a young person.

To all the DILF's I know and all the DILF's I'd like to know, thank you. Keep up the good work.

Where are your pants?

I am getting old. I don't dispute that. But I don't think there should be an age limit on the wearing of pants.

The more I look around these days, the more I notice a distinct lack of pants in the younger generations.

Here's the thing girls. Leggings are not pants. Tights are not pants. Stockings are not pants. And most importantly, if you are wearing shorts that are slightly shorter than the length of your t-shirt, we don't know you are wearing pants and so therefore, they ALSO do not count as pants.

I don't have a problem with great legs. Don't get me wrong. I'm supportive of hot women getting out the short dress, the tight short shorts, the very brief skirt etc etc. More power to them. If you've got it, flaunt it. But my problem is with the unfinished outfit. It's like women are pulling on their undies, dragging on a pair of tights, yanking on a t-shirt, answering an urgent phone call and then running out the door without remembering to put SOME PANTS ON.

I don't know. Maybe I am wrong.

Don't even get me started on leopard print tights.