The Domestic Fantasy

Last night, on a whim, I decided to bake chocolate chip cookies...in high heels. I bake cookies occasionally because they are one of the few desserts I know how to make (and they're downright delicious). I also like to wear high heels.

Over the summer, I'm staying in a rented-out frat house filled with boisterous college boys and girls. The house has just been remodeled, and I had the enormous industrial kitchen all to myself. As soon as cookie smells began wafting through the house, men began to appear suddenly, out of nowhere, their heads popping in like puppy dogs, sniffing the air.

"Whatcha bakin'?" they'd ask, their eyes wide, mouths salivating. Several boys asked me if I baked often, and many more told me they thought it was awesome that I loved to bake for the fun of it. They stood close to me and looked me up and down, asked me about myself, offered to help me with things...it was as if I had managed to charm a dozen men into complete submission. But I knew better.

I was massaging a fantasy nearly all males have -- the Domestic Fantasy: fifties house wife meets sex kitten (think Stepford Wives, but without all of the horror stuff). What man doesn't want a sexy wife to feed him, take care of him, and keep him totally satisfied? And does this woman exist? Absolutely not! If any of these gentlemen knew me at all, (and our relationship consisted of brushing past each other in the hallways for the past two weeks) they would know that I can barely cook, tend to talk loudly and often, have a room that closely resembles a pig sty, and thoroughly enjoy having my way. I also enjoy bringing men to their knees, so I played along for the fun of it.

Out came the cookies -- and the results were spectacular. Reasonably attractive woman in high heels + tray of chocolate cookies just out of the oven = the pied piper of men . They ate the cookies as if they were foreign delicacies, groaning in ecstasy; licking their fingers, flattering me, and proposing marriage. Now I call that a success.

It even took awhile for the effect to wear off. I had been marked -- boys I barely knew came to my door, inviting me to parties or simply wanting to talk; they'd smile and wave; ask how I was doing; offer to carry things for me. Eventually, things did calm down (and I must admit, I was a bit relieved), but I had discovered quite an interesting tool.

So ladies, bake and be merry, but don't let yourself be fooled by the response! No woman can fill the shoes of the Domestic Goddess forever, and the key to a man's heart is much more difficult to attain than through a cookie recipe. But if you're looking to gain some male attention, don't hesitate to have a little fun.

Maybe next time I'll try baking in lingerie. ;)