Don’t be a metrosexual; be a real man

The lowdown on metrosexuals
Metrosexual: n. one step away from wearing a dress.
Okay, maybe that’s not the exact definition, but it should be. Here’s a definition I found on www.dictionary.com: “a heterosexual male who has a strong aesthetic sense and inordinate interest in appearance and style, similar to that of homosexual males”.

Sounds Right, What’s The Problem?
In the course of my bold and fearless journalistic career, I once let a magazine take me for a metrosexual makeover. And take pictures. There I sat while a man with scissors carved a crop circle in the back of my head. I had a manicure, a pedicure and a facial, and was then dressed up in a series of outfits that my father, a master of understatement, described as “a bit fruity”.
I remember uttering, more than once, “What? You want me to wear this outside?!”
My girlfriend’s response on seeing the pictures was, “Thank God the circulation’s down, otherwise everyone would think I was a fag hag.” And then to rub it in she went and put Dedicated Follower Of Fashion on the stereo.
And when he pulls his frilly nylon panties right up tight, he feels a dedicated follower of fashion…
I suppose it was only out of affection that she didn’t come right out and call me Lola. (If you don’t get this, just ask any Kinks fan.)
If it’s not glaringly obvious to you what’s wrong with metrosexuals then perhaps you are one. Uh-oh. In short, it is an issue of vanity. Men are not supposed to be vain – that’s a feminine trait, remember? And yet here we are going to salons and dieting and spending all our spare money on designer labels and face creams. This, people, is not what we were put on Earth to do. It is also, interestingly, not what most women want in a man.

So What’s The Alternative?
Be a real man.
Real men are sexist. And proudly so. We believe a man should be a man, and a woman a woman. We believe these differences should be celebrated rather than glossed over. We would never dream of having a facial, though we would gladly pay for our lady to have one – it’s just Not For Us. Similarly, we’d only shave our body hair if we were professional cyclists or swimmers (and even then only if we had to), but we really do prefer it if women do. Double standards? You betcha. When it comes to men and women, there’s what’s right and there’s what’s right, and never the twain shall meet.
Unfortunately, real men seem to be getting short shrift of late. This is because we’re not an easy target market. Advertisers and trend experts can’t abide us because we’re not easily manipulated. If we want a white shirt, we go off and buy a classic white shirt. It’s got buttons, it’s got sleeves, it’s cotton; that’s all we want. The only label we particularly care about is the one that tells us the price. Metrosexuals will fuss about like a gaggle of mothers-in-law trying to find the right brand and making sure its got whatever it is that makes white shirts fashionable that day. Excellent. Keeps them in the shops and out of our way.
These days men are unfairly herded into two camps: metrosexuals and lager louts. The Big Guy, however, is neither. We don’t adhere to the “I take a bath every two weeks whether I need it or not” philosophy, but we don’t own hairdryers and polonecks either.
Let’s use the car analogy. The metrosexual will open the door for a lady while the lager lout will phone her up at 3am to come pick him up when he’s drunk. But the Big Guy will open the car door for her and spend his Saturday afternoon washing it if she so desires – provided there’s no rugby on. Ladies, you choose.

Where Exactly Do You Draw The Line?
Some of it’s obvious, some of it’s tricky. Signs you’re headed down the metro track:
• You enjoy manicures, facials and other girly spa treatments Beware back-sack-and-crack waxes
• You love clothes shopping Beware window-shopping
• You have tons of bathroom products Beware body lotion, wrinkle cream and under-eye serum
• You spend ages getting ready for an evening out Note: max hair-time allowance is one minute. One minute!
• Jewellery Beware shiny jewellery; it’s for rap stars. You’re permitted to wear a watch
• You drink Bacardi Breezers That’s just the next level

More Info

Despite my jesting, it’s important to realise that the metrosexual phenomenon is, in fact, a worrying one for us men. It’s a sign of the times and there’s no denying that our roles in society are being redefined. Read Modern Man Is A Wimp: Long Live Real Men by John Shannan for a particularly disturbing treatise on just how under the cosh men are today.

Don’t eat fast food fast; eat slow food slowly

The Lowdown On Fast Food
Simply put, fast food is inexpensive cuisine that requires little preparation and service time. Though the term was coined in the 1950s, the idea has been around for ages. The Romans, for example, frequented bread-and-olive stands back in the day, so they could grab a ciabatta on the way to watching Christians being mauled to death and eaten by lions. Tasty!

Sounds Good, What’s The Problem?
Ah, the progress we’ve made since those long-ago days of barbarism and religious intolerance… Instead of bread and olives we now have greasy burgers and soggy chips, or chicken gizzards with smash and gravy, or deep-fried lard with lard on top… Is there actual meat in that hot dog? Was that legally a chicken? Who knows!
Fast food and junk food have, in recent times, become synonymous. Glory be to America. But for the Big Guy, the health considerations are not the main issue here. It goes deeper than that. Indeed, even the so-called health-food places are abysmal. Tasteless avo and grated carrot on wholewheat, washed down with a lettuce-and-wheatgrass smoothie, anyone?
No, most fast-food joints – and we’re talking the big names here – are simply terrible. They’re crap. In fact, they are shining monuments to the crapness of our times. Right up there with Paris Hilton, Premiership football and the inanities of reality television.
To start, there is the suffocating atmosphere of cheap consumerism – the plastic and shiny lights – that accosts you at the door (and from down the street) and screams, “Welcome, chump!” This is closely followed by the unfettered shrill of hyperactive kids on sugar highs, the mumbling cellphone drawl of slothful teenagers with their underwear on show and the claustrophobic congregation of human weight – and then you are served. There’s something about being dealt food by someone with an IQ lower than the Styrofoam container it comes in that is… inherently unsatisfying.
The climax of the fast-food experience is the meal itself. It is beyond egregious. And if you aren’t acutely aware of this every time you take a bite it’s just because you’ve become accustomed to it. Conditioned. The addictive chemicals inside your “beef” burger are working their magic, convincing you that you want more even though you’re not really sure why.
And beyond this foulness even is the pace. Fast food is fast – which is its sole redeeming feature. But even this in itself is a dangerous lie, set for us by the frenetic pace of modern living. There is nothing advantageous about stuffing food down you gullet: it’s ugly, uncouth and downright uncivilised.

So What’s The Alternative?
Sitting down at the table for a meal and chatting about your day is one of the cornerstones of modern civilisation. Well, no, it’s not actually, but it should be. You don’t have to do it at every meal – although there’s nothing wrong with that either – but there’s something very human about it.
Convenience has its merits, which we must sometimes concede, but life is too short to let it fly by in a whirlwind of haste. From an evolutionary point of view, we’re put on this earth to have sex, sleep and eat (although not always in that order), so we may as well take our time about these actions and enjoy them. Enjoy having sex, enjoy sleeping and enjoy eating. Whether you take your time and cook yourself something amazing or go out to a decent restaurant, celebrate your meal with a conversation and some appreciation.
And fuck fast food.

More Info
• Super Size Me is the award-winning documentary that sees its creator eat all his meals for a month at McDonald’s. He puts on 11 kilograms and suffers mood swings, sexual dysfunction and liver damage in the process. Watch it and be afraid.
www.supersizeme.com
• In Praise Of Slow is a book by Carl Honoré. Slow food is just one of the topics. www.inpraiseofslow.com

Plan B

If you can’t avoid fast food, there are two ways of eating it while maintaining some credibility. If you must do it on a regular basis, go the extra mile and find yourself a worthy fast-food joint – a really good wood-fired-pizza place or a nice Chinaman who rustles up a chow mein in five seconds might do. Otherwise, if it’s just a one-off – a road trip, say, or an introspective journey into the trashy recesses of your soul – just go the whole hog: order the biggest burger on the menu, throw in every sauce, supersize the chips and megasize the shake. And wolf it down. Your body will become a toxic altar to the pinnacle of American faux cuisine. And hopefully you will learn your lesson.

Don’t sleep with her on the first night; give it a while

The Lowdown On First-Night Sex
So there’s this girl and you really like her. You met her at a drinks party and you just started chatting to her and it was great but then she had to go and now you’ve got a date with her tonight. You’ve only spoken to her a couple of times on the phone, and maybe sent her an e-mail or two, but you are excited about her. We’re talking butterflies. She’s pretty and clever and she laughs at your jokes and this could really go places. So you’re nervous as hell. And you’re just praying everything goes well at dinner so you can take her back to your place and shag her senseless.

Sounds Great, What's The Problem?
Huh? Did I miss something? Wasn’t something a bit out of kilter there?
It’s not that sex on the first date can’t lead to a fulfilling, lifelong relationship of love and happiness. It’s just that, these days, it seems so… common. Where’s the respect? Where’s the romance?

So What's The Alternative?
Slow down, love machine. Yes, there’s a great deal to be said for the passion and spontaneity and recklessness of sex on the first night. And sure, you’ve probably both done exactly that with other people. These are the times we live in, after all. But how about taking a step back and being a bit old-school about it? If you’re right, then you’re going to be seeing this girl for a good while yet, and you’re going to have all the opportunity in the world to ravage each other at length.
Accept tonight, then, as a date – the first of many. Besides your respect for her that this implies, it also allows for a whole industrial lube container worth of sexual anticipation. Play it right and you will be a walking time bomb until date number two (or three or four if you’re really patient).
And when she looks back on it in a while, once you’re officially together and consummated, she’ll probably take some comfort from the fact that you didn’t just try to get into her pants right away. Your behaviour suggests you’re not a scoundrel who recklessly sleeps around and breaks women’s hearts. (Maybe don’t mention reading this, though.)

N.B.
The one possible side effect of your gentlemanly-like intentions not to immediately form the beast with two backs with your new love interest is that, if she is keen, she may take this as a slight on her desirability. Girls are funny like this and, despite your many protestations to the contrary, there is a strong chance she will harbour a hare-brained notion that you find her physically repulsive and never want to see her again. It could even cause her to rush out to the nearest nightclub to find a man willing to restore her self-esteem with a furious bout of unmitigated bonking. So you either have to be convincingly open with her right there and tell her your reasoning, or you have to have a damn good excuse not to go home with her. You’ve been warned.

P.S.

No sex on the first date doesn’t mean you can’t give her a good tonsil-lashing.