The kids (I need to point out, they are all girls) hang on his every word.
But they don’t understand what Hooters is. Nor do they understand the concepts of dirty old men, negative attention, or sexism. They understand only that *Fun Dad* wants to go there. Mean Mom doesn’t like it. Therefore, it must be AWESOME.
Rather than get into a gender inequality discussion with a minivan full of hungry stomachs, I simply reply, in my best self-righteous Brangelina voice, that I will start eating at Hooters when there is a purveyor of chicken wings and beer equally as sexy and designed just for women.
His response: There will never be Hooters for women, because women don’t know what they want.
What Do Women Want?
At first glance, this question appears simple. But it’s tricky. Women want attractive, or at least hygienic, considerate men who respect us, and who at least make an effort to listen when we talk.
How would this translate into a restaurant theme?
Perhaps quiet, relaxing, and dimly lit; maybe fresh flowers on every table? No, you’d prefer karaoke and Real Housewives throw-downs on huge plasma TVs?
Okay. How about sexy massage therapist waiters that rub our shoulders while they take our orders, commenting on how nice our hair looks and asking us how our day was? Tacky and forced, eh?
I know! Scantily-clad men leaning in close, their steamy breath so hot on the back of our necks, as their bulging biceps reach to clear the table? Turned on by the clearing of the table but creeped out by all the rest, you say?
What’s left, then – free dessert? Packaged to-go so we can pretend not to want it, but then eat it at home, alone, after the kids are in bed? Now, admit it, THAT’S sexy.
I give up.
Maybe my husband was right.
Maybe women are too complex and unpredictable to have our own pleasurable restaurant franchise. Or maybe we’re too buried under self-improvement marketing to consider pleasing ourselves.
It comes down to what we really want. For the people we love to appreciate us and all that we do for them. And we can’t get that from a sexy waiter at a tacky restaurant.
And that’s why there’s no Hooters for women.
About the Author:
Molly Ballistic is a mom of four, geologist, and mediocre wife who believes GoodEnough is better than Perfect. Her soul is crushed by day in a windowless cubicle and at night by her lovely family who hates her cooking and conspires against her by continuously funneling clean clothes into the dirty laundry pile. You can follow Molly on her personal blog, GoodEnoughGirl and on twitter @goodenough_girl.