Time in the kitchen turns to magic under the sheets

We’ve all heard the phrase, “if you can’t stand the heat, get out of the kitchen.”  But if you want more heat in the bedroom, then, men, you definitely should avoid that aromatic room.

A study, published on TIME magazine’s website, showed that couples who tackled traditionally women’s chores together had less active sex lives.  These couples were having sex, on average, a whopping 1.6 times less than couples who kept to their gender roles.

Makes sense, doesn’t it?

While I can already hear some of you ladies complaining that a man is no different from a woman and should help out around the house just as much, I think you all should grab your aprons and wooden cooking spoons and whisk back to the kitchen.

After all, the home is our empire and the kitchen especially is our castle.  Why are we so willing to surrender our hard earned territory to men who already occupy the rest of the world?

Think about it this way, ladies.  What do you find attractive?  Is it more of a turn-on to see a man elbow-deep scrubbing out the toilets or to have everything sparkling clean so that you can greet him as he comes home from work in a nice suit and tie?  Does helping him out of those obnoxiously yellow rubber gloves give you that innate desire to help him slip on a different rubber glove in the bedroom?

Yeah.  I didn’t think so.

So why are we so offended whenever they sit back and relax from a rough day of board meetings and stock exchanges and curing cancer as opposed to immediately tackling a sink full of dirty mixing bowls?

Women, let’s start taking pride in our work.  Let’s delight in the fact that we get to twirl around in the kitchen in a sundress and heels, Frank Sinatra’s sultry serenades accompanying our fervent prayers to Betty Crocker as we mastermind a meal.

We get to spend Sunday afternoons perfecting the artful maneuvering of a Swiffer WetJet while our men are at the driving range perfecting the precision of their golf swing.

And why should we complain?  The messiest we get is whenever we clumsily adorn our frilly aprons with a bag of flour.  It’s the men that tackle the vengefully staining grass, brave electrocution by changing the light bulbs on the grand ceilings and combat the suicide spiders that come out to attack.

So it’s no wonder that couples that stick to their areas of expertise are more apt to let that chemistry work its way from the kitchen to the bedroom.

Rescuing me from a terrifying bug makes me much more apt to leap into my man’s arms and let him have his way with me than watching him sashay around my kingdom of a home wreaking havoc with a vacuum cleaner.

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