Cindy

Droog

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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 Group. May not be republished without permission.

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