You get dressed up. You know--makeup, stockings, etc. And the hunk meanders out of the bedroom dressed in jeans and tee-shirt. I didn't need some guy to write a book about how women and men are from different planets. By the time you live with a man for two days you already have that down.
I've been working hard on a new book, Phantom's Rest. It's always a fine line an female author walks when they portray a male character. The truth is our (mostly) female readers don't want to read about how the guys leave their dirty shorts on the floor or their whiskers in the sink. They don't want to know about how he left the toilet seat up so the heroine fell in the toilet in the middle of the night.
So I think we fall back on certain stereotypes when we write. The guys usually drink beer. They rarely do laundry or cook--unless the author is using one of those to engineer a meeting.
But for some reason they know how to be romantic. They know about flowers and candles and those things that are close to a woman's heart. And if they have to choose between watching the Superbowl game or taking their lady out to watch a chick flick, they always choose the chick flick.
I do not know a single guy, regardless of age, who would do that. Oh, they might do it because they're aware that's the way to get lucky when they bring the little wife home...but willingly choosing to skip the game? No.
Not too many heroes sweat. They work all day at some kind of manly job out in the sun but when they come home and wrap those damp arms around the little woman? She burrows her nose in his chest and hums with contentment because he smells so good. Seriously. Check it out.
And every guy character in the book knows exactly how to fix a car. Any kind of car. They know how to fix the plumbing. And how to install a garbage disposal.
I want a guy who can tell me how to fix artichoke dip. I want one who knows how to run a vacuum, the dishwasher, and how to make me chocolate chip cookies when I need a chocolate fix.
Yeah, I want a fantasy...