Masculine Rituals

No, I'm not gonna talk about the peculiar butt-slapping, crotch-grabbing ( vaguely homoerotic ) behaviour practised by hearty, virile heterosexual men of sport.

It's all about the secret little narcissistic ( banal? ) rituals that most men have to endure when they mature. For a boy anxiously taking his first steps into puberty, several things start to evolve, change and grow. No, I'm not gonna talk about that growth, you wicked pervs. :) In a matter of months - sometimes days, that innocent smooth-cheeked Bel Ami boy of youth starts shooting up into gangly limbs, drops two octaves and starts developing facial hair.

It's my secret theory that when Adam and Eve got evicted from that celestial nudist paradise Casa Eden, not only was he punished with an apple involuntarily stuck in his manly throat, poor Adam also received accelerated hair growth around his square jaw that necessitates regular attempts to slice and dice himself with a sharp implement. Or what we would call shaving. Talk about cutthroat punishment.

While poor Eve got stuck in the red tent with her monthfly flows. An even worse fate from what I hear from my woeful female cousins but let's not go there. Not sure exactly what happened to the bewildered Steve since God only knows.

Of course modern man has evolved from the days when we used to scrape sharpened stones and broken seashells across our cheeks just to get intimate with the ones we love ( without resorting to giving them stubble rash ).


Hmm... definitely no nicks on that smooth skin.,,
Let's face it, we've all seen those lovely little hallmark presentations where the sexy half-naked dad teaches his son to shave, prompting hilarious laughter when the shaving foam starts to fly? Well, that glorious male traditon was never that saccharine sweet, I believe. Can't recall how I managed to shave myself in the beginning but I believe my father tossed me a disposable blade and just ordered me to get on with it. Is it any wonder that once violent, bloodthirsty little me wielded the almighty razorblade, I ended up with little nicks and scratches all over?

These days, frou frou metrosexual teachings advocate a whole plethora of sophisticated implements and essential accessories for that perfect shave, turning it into an elaborate artistic showcase of masculine ritual - almost akin to Japanese tea drinking ceremonies. Shaving creams and soaps, aftershave and balms, razors and brushes, even shaving bowls and mugs.

Far from being the purported new metrosexual, I'm a simple ( though some might say bad ) gay man. My needs are relatively simple and all I require ( since I don't actually have the wild tough whiskers of a Wolverine ) is the blade and water - especially when I'm voluntarily thrown into the pathetically spartan gaol at work. Even the bloody mirror is a relative bonus sometimes.

However when I'm not at work for a few days, my now superior shaving skills go into semi hibernation and my trusty razor starts to accumulate rust. Although some career paths practically exult the unkempt, unshaven look such as the mad scientist labs and the deranged starving artiste commune, the stringent medical hierarchy tends to frown upon such unconventional shaving habits. Though there are small exceptions. Since he somehow managed to cultivate a revolutionary mini-stubble of his own, not sure how Handsome Hui managed to charm his way out of such scrutiny.

Sure it's a banal chore but I'm starting to resemble an indigent hobo without a shaving brush. Doubt any of my patients would be able to take advice from someone who looks like just crawled out from living in a cardboard box under the subway station.

Obviously it's time to learn some grooming secrets that separates the men from the boys...
How to get that perfect shave