I suppose I'll let you in on a secret: once upon a time, I blew up my dorm's kitchen. Okay, that's a stretch. I only added water to hot oil. As if there wasn't enough frying oil all over the walls, counters, and floors, after the incident, the edible objects being fried were beignets so there was flour and confectioner's sugar all over the walls, counters, and floors also.
A little more for the background story: I'm from the New Orleans area and when I went to visit the homeland over my Fall Break, I brought back authentic Cafe Du Monde beignet mix to introduce my friends to the "French doughnut"...and my memorable cooking talents.
Getting to the point, among these friends was a guy I once knew. He was a willing cleaner. I was in the middle of washing a pan when he offered to finish the dishes. And without having to even ask, he wiped down the entire kitchen. (Twice. After the oil incident, we tried again.)
Amidst all of the unnecessary mess—the oil, the flour, the sugar, my embarrassment, etcetera—here was a guy willing to clean it all up.
While the remainder of the "friends" disappeared right before the resident advisors appeared as they smelled smoke from floors below, he was intent on making me feel as if I had done nothing wrong. And not having to clean the mess of my own stupidity was the sweetest thing a guy could do for me at that point.
No one likes to clean and when someone does it for me, that hits the spot. I need someone that knows what I want without me having to ask, mostly because I'm not the kind of person who asks for much from a guy. I'm a pleaser, so when I'm being pleased I can't help but feel, turned on.
There's also something about a masculine guy cleaning...that makes this number three.