Bradley Cooper is multimillionaire Hollywood star and the hottest man alive. He’s on my list…yeah…THAT list. A middle-aged mother of three would be crazy to turn him down under any circumstances. However, I just returned from a two week long trip to Costa Rica that involved three kids, five backpacks, four suitcases, and approximately 11,000 hot tears, and I’m going to publicly admit that I probably couldn’t have handled this without my partner in crime, the father of my children, my favorite person to yell at when I’m emotionally overwrought: my husband.

So I did the math, and after some extensive mental comparisons, I’ve decided to save the seat next to me in 32B for this long-suffering guy. Here’s why (and no, it has nothing to do with marriage vows).

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Body Fat Percentage

His soft belly makes a great pillow on long flights. Six pack abs are overrated, if you ask me.

Room Service

There’s no better dinner than your husband showing up at the hotel room with paper bags.

Anonymity

My children hate having their photo taken so much that somebody would probably get arrested for assaulting the paparazzi.

Bicep Strength

I don’t think Bradley Cooper has the pack-animal experience required to shlep two car seats, three bags, a suitcase, a dropped sippy cup, a teddy bear, and a crying child through the airport at the same time.

7 on a scale of 10

When visiting destinations like Southern Utah or the Olympic Mountains, the most beautiful view shouldn’t be your companion.

Illegal Liquor

First-class champagne is overrated. Alcohol tastes better when surreptitiously poured from a cheap mini bottle your husband thoughtfully hides in his carry-on and then dumps in to your free airline soda.

Whoopie

I doubt Bradley has mastered silent, invisible, under-the-covers foreplay the way my husband has after ten years (though I’d be willing to give him a chance). 

My Dream Minivan

Hollywood limos aren’t properly equipped for a multi-day family road trip. You need car seat anchors, DVD players with Disney DVDs, all-weather mats to contain the vomit, plenty of cargo space, a zillion cupholders, and possibly wine. All limos bring to the party is alcohol.

Relative Bliss 

The beaches of Costa Rica are so much more rewarding after you’ve survived hours of hell in economy to get there. 

He’s Already Learned His Lesson 

Finally, I feel like Bradley might judge the emotional overeating I do after I’ve landed at a new destination, the kids have all had their meltdowns, and I have jet lag. My husband knows better than that.