Metro Metro Man

I will probably never be a metrosexual. And don't get me wrong, I will continue to aspire in small and ineffectual ways as I have always done, but to be honest it's just not going to happen.

The thought occurred to me this morning after I had applied some E45 moisturiser, some vaseline lip therapy, passed on the brylcream (because it smelled funky being a coule of months old as it is) and as I looked at my not un-stylish but old and largely january-sales / birthday&Christmas-present clothes - or what I could see of them through my vandalised mirror - thinking I could use a haircut and wondering where I left my scissors. And in all the cuffuffle of getting out to work with that considerable beauty regime as well as considerable flu-y symptoms, I forgot to deodourise.

(Anyone know what gets permanent marker off glass by the way? I've tried nothing and... [well, you all know the gag])

So it seems the will is there, but class and the attention to detail just isn't. While I will be the second or third to admit my vanity and propensity to self-indulgence('first' being a little too hot off the mark to be honest), such things have been sadly knocked down the list of priorities in the life that has transpired for 'Better-luck-next-time' Buckles.

I use bottom of the range skin-products, charity shops would reject most of my clothes, I cut my own hair, I use a product which assures me that it is both a shampoo and a shower gel (which I also use as soap and shaving foam), and deodourant, despite it being on my list of essentials, can sometimes fall through the net. And yet I put delicately manicured (in sofar as one can without an emory board) hand on heart and say that I take pride in my appearance.

I imagine that the trouble is that I have neither the cash nor the time, and that if I work-out and do weights and get all buff, I won't be able to afford new clothes that fit; but to a certain extent it may be that I rarely ask women out on dates, and I get little encouragement or inspiration from my pathologically single and slovenly friends (there being perhaps one or two minor exceptions in the latter category) in these matters.

While I'm on the subject of looking one's best for dress-to-impress reasons, it has been put to me by a female of the species (most of whom are born with a natural inclination to self-beautify) that a lot of women do not dress up to impress others but in fact they do it "for themselves". And this is quite a common statement on such matters. I saw in a number of boob-job documentaries, that women were coached to say that they wanted cosmetic surgery "for themselves," and not to impress anyone else.

I will believe such a statement when a woman shows me, in all honesty, the new high-heels, g-string, cocktail dress and lipstick she got for eating beans on toast and watching 'Neighbours' when nobody's home.

Anyway, I'd like to think I'll get in gear when I've loadsamoney to buy all the fancy 'boysmetics,'(Hmmm... I should probably patent that word before someone makes a mint from it - meh!) I like, but the truth is I won't. I'll be too old, and possibly too fat and married and stressed.

Will money and power still be sexy in 10 years time, or am I going to need a plan 'B'?

Addendum:

I just came across the following image, and I'm now doubting that I even know what a so-called metro-sexual is

I'm pretty sure that twelve yeses or more will make you a basket case, a closet case, a deeply contemptible individual, and most likely all three.

Why go to the nightclub at all? Why not let your imaginary wife go in your stead while you bench-press your children in your gender-sensitive livingroom and gucci shoes? Or better still: try to be less of a twat?