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Modern Man-ifestation By Ruth Ainey

It was Rabbie Burns who famously penned the words ‘a man’s a man for a’ that’ but, somehow, I don’t think he envisaged Modern Man…

On a rare foray into the big city, I found myself in Boots.  Standing at the till waiting to be checked out, my gaze wandered over the items in the basket of the person in front of me.  Anti-aging serum, moisturiser, waxing strips – all the usual accoutrements were there.  And then I raised my gaze to the purchaser of said products – and before me stood an impeccably groomed man.  Now, I agree, there’s nothing sexier than a well-groomed man, but standing in Boots I began to get nostalgic.

Think back a mere decade, ladies, to a time when, if you mentioned the word ‘exfoliate’ in the presence of your beloved he would stare at you blankly for several seconds before making good his escape.  Yes, off he’d scuttle to find safety in numbers with the rest of the male pack in the pub.  And said pack members would sit, exchanging dark looks and meaningful glances, all the while shaking their heads in bewilderment at us females.  Darts would be thrown, dominoes chapped and your beloved, his equilibrium restored, would wander home several hours later a happy man. 

And ten years ago we females could claim the whole of the bathroom shelf to ourselves.  And the dressing table.  And one shelf in the wardrobe.  All purely for the storage of our cosmetics and beauty products.  Said items sat looking alluring (to the female) and suspicious (to the male).   But today?  Well, the bathroom shelf is full, the dressing table is just as cluttered and the wardrobe is filled with pots, tubs, tubes and jars – but they don’t belong to the female of the species.  Nope.  Move over ladies, Modern Man is here…

Modern Man has more hair dyes, anti-aging serums, cleansers and toners than the average female – and he now waxes, dyes, moisturises and, yes, even exfoliates with all the vigour and determination of the average female.  He even has his own perfume – sorry, ‘gents fragrance’ – to complete the ensemble.  But, ladies, don’t you hanker after Pre-Millennium Man just a little bit? 

Pre-Millennium Man was a simple, uncomplicated soul.  He showered (using your shower gel), he used deodorant (from the local supermarket) and on high days and holidays, he’d splash on some aftershave which his mum/wife/girlfriend/all of the aforementioned had given him at Christmas.  And, as Pre-Millennium Man matured, he looked comfortably mature with greying hair, laughter lines and, it has to be said, a slightly sagging six-pack.  But, sagging or not, let’s not underestimate the pleasure that little six-pack could give.  Many pleasant hours could be spent in quiet contemplation of your beloved’s chest hair as you curled up on the sofa, your arm resting companionably upon said six-pack.  Bliss.  But now?  Well, that cute little six-pack has turned into rock hard ‘abs’ and chest hair?  You’ll find it stuck to a waxing strip… 

And Modern Man no longer wastes time lounging on the sofa.  Nope.  Modern Man now shops and returns home, laden down with all the latest ‘must-have’ beauty products, whereupon he promptly disappears in a puff of hairspray into the bathroom to experiment with the latest hair dye/anti-aging serum/waxing kit. 

But, ladies, your troubles truly begin when Modern Man brings home his DIY Botox kit.  At this point it’s advisable, nay, essential, to seek refuge at the SWRI – and take the dog with you.  And from the Botox kit it is but a short step to his next suggestion – a ‘waxing night’.  Oh, yes.  ‘You wax my chest, I’ll wax your legs,’ he’ll quip.  Right.  Remember, ladies, divorce lawyers are really not that expensive… 

But I suppose we females must accept some of the blame for the creature we have (inadvertently) created.  Who was it that nagged – sorry, ‘constructively criticised’ – Pre-Millennium Man?  Yes, us.  And now, as we sit opposite a waxed, tanned, toned Adonis at the breakfast table, the truth suddenly dawns – yes, we truly loved Pre-Millennium Man.  We adored his greying chest hair, we loved his laughter lines and cherished his comfortably sagging little six-pack. 

So, the question is, should Pre-Millennium Man be reinstated?  Thought so.  I’ll start the petition then, shall I?