One of the greatest shames in life is the yawning chasm between what women find attractive and what men think they find attractive. It is responsible for the kinds of terrible things this world would be better off without – the scourge of harmful pornography, edible underwea, fights outside a pub at 2am, being given Pandora charm bracelets for every occasion. The list goes on.
Danny Dyer becoming the sex symbol of 2025 was not on anyone’s bingo card but it proves how radically the female gaze swerves from its male counterpart. Dyer stars in a joyous, soapy remake of Jilly Cooper’s Rivals, ie the raciest book your mam had around the house when you were a child. Like most of her books, Rivals is good clean dirty fun written for women by women. It’s sexy but only in a deeply uncool British kind of way and full of people good looking enough to overlook the fact they are the type who would refer to sex as “rumpy pumpy” in real life. It makes sense that a book that caters to female desire was made into a series that acts as an unapologetic caretaker of the same.
We’re given Aidan Turner glowering without his shirt on and Alex Hassell smirking at us in a way that would have a celibate monk downloading Hinge. Despite it being partly set in the frigid depths of winter in the Cotswolds, everyone is naked all the time. We can only assume, nay hope, they kept their socks on during love scenes.
Despite the endless scenes of what my uncle refers to as “horizontal folk dancing” – the steamiest part of the series is watching the will they/won’t they tease between two middle-aged actors with unflattering wigs. Danny Dyer plays a portly businessman with a fondness for slubby polo shirts, so now there are hundreds of sexy montages dedicated to the character on TikTok. In the space of a week the slow-motion edits of Pedro Pascal and Paul Mescal that usually clog up people’s “For You” page were replaced with Dyer eating a bit of fruit cake in cling film. That is the power of the female gaze.
His character has us rooting for a full-blown affair as Lizzie (played by Katherine Parkinson) tells him her awful husband is “cross with her for having a ladder in her tights”. “I love a ladder – stairway to heaven and all that,” he responds kindly, making every woman watching jealous of the Cadbury’s Fruit and Nut he just popped in his mouth.
The character may be balding, beer bellied and constantly mocked for his lack of class but he’s nice. And that’s incredibly hot. He buys Lizzie a typewriter when he notices ink stains on her hands, he chases a train when she leaves her manuscript behind and he tells her that she’s talented.
They say to be loved is to be seen and that’s what he does – he sees a female character in a way she is ignored by others. He pays a quiet attention that isn’t clawing or needy. He solves problems and arguments without raising his voice. It’s a comfortable, unflinching masculinity of a man secure within himself. And it is wondrous to watch it play out on screen.
So much of what is perceived as feminine desire is sadly based on the tired tropes of bad boys and outdated hegemonic masculinity. Women are supposed to like men who chop wood or play rugby or GAA or who can do push-ups while clapping in between. Men with no weakness. Who barge around getting what they want without explaining themselves. Who drive big cars. This is the type of man who might be impressive to seven-year-old boys, but perhaps not full grown women.
It’s odd watching men trying to win the approval of other men in the pursuit of being attractive to women. But that’s the way things seem to work. It is a great tragedy that some young men are taught that their masculinity is proportionate to how they can dismiss the emotional needs of themselves and others.
Personally, I find it really hot when men are nice to women. Watching a man automatically hold out the arms of his wife’s coat so she can slip into it before they leave the warm cocoon of the pub for the cold outside is hot. Speaking up for a woman to a group of mates making disrespectful jokes is hot. Filling up a partner’s petrol tank because you know they have an early morning the next day is hot. Making someone’s life run just that little bit smoother with a small gesture is downright erotic. And the best part is you can keep your socks on while doing it.