Cindy
Droog
Read Cindy's bio and previous columns
January 21, 2008
Sexiest Man Alive of 2008: Tom Droog
It’s only January, but
I already know who the Sexiest Man Alive of 2008 is.
I don’t work for
People magazine, which publishes the list. I don’t have a crystal
ball. And considering my mom-like habit of worrying about things that
never happen, like my son poking his own eye out in the middle of the
night even though the sharpest instrument anywhere near his crib is his
own finger, I obviously don’t have a sixth sense either.
The Sexiest Man Alive
this year is my husband, Tom.
What’s he got on 2007’s
winner, Matt Damon? Well, for one thing, he would never break up with me
on television before telling me, like Matt did to Minnie Driver on
Oprah. In fact, he never complains – not even to his best friend – about
me when I deserve it. Like the time I backed his new Saab right into a
gas pump. Nope, not even then. He simply understood that someone less
than five feet tall would naturally have more blind spots than others.
Top that, Matt.
And how does he compare
to past winner Patrick Swayze? Well, on the dance floor, they don’t. In
fact, Tom might be the most awkward, twitchy guy attempting the Electric
Slide during our friends’ wedding receptions. But when Swayze hears the
word “dirty,” he thinks of dancing with Jennifer Grey. Tom thinks of
grabbing a broom, vacuum or sometimes even a toilet wand, and tackling
the job before I even have to ask.
How hot is that?
Then, there’s sexy
George Clooney, who won not one – but two – $10,000 bets that he would
not become a father before the age of 40. Clearly, he’s never had to
change a diaper. Then, there’s Tom, who just yesterday managed to go
above and beyond the call of diaper changer when he had to take scissors
and cut a onesie off our newborn in order to avoid getting the contents
of said diaper in the baby’s hair.
That got my husband
points for creativity to be sure. But also, when he told me the story, I
don’t think he was intending to seduce me. Yet, it worked.
I’m not sure what that
says about me. I do know, however, that he blows Clooney’s credentials
out of the water.
As for how he compares
to 1990s winner Tom Cruise, only their first names are the same. My Tom
knows all about post-pregnancy hormones, and rather than condemn them
publicly, he’s been known to let me leave the house, even while the baby
is screaming his head off, to drive to the coffee shop for some
desperately needed mommy downtime.
So, in this working
mom’s opinion, Cruise can hit the road.
In 2008, the coveted
title of Sexiest Man Alive might officially go to the likes of Patrick
Dempsey, Andy Roddick or, my second choice after Tom, Taye Diggs. But my
guess is those guys don’t cook the meanest quesadillas east of the
Mississippi. Or never miss a pediatrician’s appointment. Or not complain
when their wives get out of bed to do work at 3 a.m.
Since he’s probably not
famous enough to be named People’s Sexiest Man, I looked into
having him anointed a saint by the pope instead. But they sort of
require you to be Catholic. And I guess some guy of Aquinas already has
the St. Thomas title.
In a way, I’m relieved.
After all, I’d like to keep Tom to myself, and all those paparazzi would
probably put a damper on our Saturday morning coffee and cartoon hour.
As for Tom, he’ll have to settle for this column as his reward. Somehow,
I don’t think he’ll mind.
© 2008 North Star Writers
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