The very surprising thing that makes women flirt with my husband… in front of me

The woman leans forward and rubs my husband’s arm conspiratorially, her long chestnut curls brushing his sleeve.

‘You are… such an “A good father,” she whispers excitedly.

My husband – bless him – is not averse to a bit of flattery. He modestly clears his throat and takes a sip of G&T, careful not to drip any condensation from his glass onto the head of our six-month-old baby, who is sleeping peacefully in the baby carrier strapped to his chest.

Meanwhile, I angrily try to keep my eyes from rolling.

What did this paragon do to earn so much praise? And a few admiring glances from other women at this party full of colleagues and their families?

Nothing – except that he visibly and capably raised his own child.

I was not at all surprised by the recent scientific ‘discovery’ that women find men more attractive when we see them with a child. Apparently it’s a biological thing: when you hold the baby, he seems like a reliable, stable provider.

My own grassroots research, conducted at suburban barbecues, local parties, and many, many weddings, has proven it beyond a shadow of a doubt. As soon as my husband picks up one of our two young children, he becomes the center of female attention.

Women who do not have children of their own, but are not completely against them, are most attracted to this group.

They giggle flirtatiously as he tosses our beaming toddler high into the air. They smile indulgently as he juggles a melted popsicle, a pack of baby wipes and a sticky Sophie la Giraffe teething ring.

They ask fascinating questions about how it all works and invite long, confidential conversations about the joys and difficulties of fatherhood.

And that’s exactly what happens when I stand next to him.

When our youngest was very young, he would occasionally take both girls for a walk while I slept. His ‘devotion’ to his children became the talk of the street, while he would come home with stories of how he had ‘struck up a conversation’ with a ‘lovely’ woman on his travels.

I have no doubt that other fathers have noticed this effect as well.

How do I know this? Because it gives rise to a phenomenon I call the Show Pony Dad, where a man is conspicuously brilliant with his children when he’s out and about because he gets showered with praise.

Who can blame them? That kind of attention is intoxicating.

You’ll find Show Pony Dads in a loose group at garden parties, each with at least one child in their arms or dangling in the air from their torso.

They eat with one hand while rocking adorable babies to sleep, organize elaborate treasure hunts to “entertain the kids,” or lift laughing children onto their shoulders for mock battles with other fathers.

Endlessly patient, cheerful and just such an very nice.

Meanwhile, mothers – who, thanks to the pressures of our still-inequitable society, almost inevitably do more of the hard work behind the scenes – might well resent it if we weren’t so grateful for a break.

So we sit in near silence, glasses of rosé in hand, a thousand-yard stare, wondering when one of the kids is going to cry because they’ve been thrown too high in the air or trampled in an overly competitive game. Or when one of the dads is going to twist his back.

Whenever my husband picks up one of our two young children, he becomes the center of female attention

It’s a lot like barbecuing. Cooking is another daily chore that men have traditionally been more than happy to share – as long as they can do their part outside, in a slightly more dangerous way, and all while getting lots of praise for a mediocre performance.

Am I just jealous? Look, my husband is an attractive man. His blond good looks have always won his share of admirers, and he just keeps getting better with age.

As we enter the exhausting years of parenthood, waistlines around him are widening and hairlines are receding. But his dedication to exercise, self-control around chocolate chip cookies, and genetic goodness make him stand out from the crowd more than ever.

Plus, he’s a really good father.

But I hope I’m a good mother too. But as soon as I’m in public with my children, I might as well put on a cloak of invisibility.

Conversations swirl around me like water flowing around a rock as I scrub the crusted snot from my nose or apply another layer of sunscreen.

Men without children don’t know what to say. Men with children just want to talk about everything except someone else’s children, which is fair enough. But they also seem to assume that’s all I have to talk about, which is not the case.

So maybe I am jealous. Not of the women who flirt with my husband, but of the fact that he gets to be a parent in public – without being written off as a person.