I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about men over the past few weeks. I’ve fixated on men with peachy soft faces, dreamt about charismatic men, and let my mind linger over men who have chiselled their rock-hard bodies into muscular perfection. With the amount of time I’ve devoted to my idea of the perfect man, my recent marriage to a woman is looking like a waste of a potentially killer Grindr profile.
For seven weeks, I’ve been trying to figure out what being a man means to me. The way that I’ve done that is by immersing myself in the accumulated learnings of the experts on male identity who contributed to Philips’ What Makes a Man campaign. I’ve tried stepping away from ideas of toxic masculinity and embraced being kind to myself. I’ve wrestled with the idea of what other people think of me. And so rigorously did I research appropriate techniques for working out that I ended up chafing my bum bone with poorly executed sit-ups. I know: I’m a pro.
In the past, I haven’t felt comfortable thinking of myself as a man. I often didn’t think that I fitted into society’s idea of masculinity, what with my penchant for board games and immersive theatre not exactly putting me into the same category of maleness as Jason Statham (I know, hard to believe from those rugged photos of me). Frankly, I wasn’t even sure that I was mature enough to count as a man.
I’ve learned something over the past few weeks, though: I’m actually fairly far down the road to being a man. The main reason I say that? I’ve had an important realisation: I’m totally comfortable with myself. Obviously, to an extent, I’ve always known this. I mean, I wouldn’t stealthily unfollow myself on Facebook, cross the road to avoid me or invent an excuse to avoid chatting to myself at a party. I think I’m an OK kind of guy.
But as I spent a week practising the art of kindfulness – ie trying to be kind to yourself in a soothingly mindful manner – I started to think more about the way I treat myself. And I began to realise that I actually already did quite a lot of the recommendations of kindfulness: ie to not be hard on yourself and to accept yourself as you are.
A few weeks later, it was time for me to try out exercise routines to see what suited me. And, frankly, I just didn’t want to do anything that approached most people’s idea of exercise: no thrusting, squatting or practising getting out of bed (or sit-ups or whatever they’re called). No matter what the benefits for giving me a rock hard tum-tum, I didn’t want to do them, and I realised that I was totally comfortable with just saying: “Nope. That’s not me. Not gonna do that.”
And, frankly, that made me appreciate something: I do actually have some masculine strengths that I should be proud of. Even though more stereotypically manly types might know their way around a monkey wrench, that doesn’t make them good at the bits that involve pouring your feelings out of your mouth-hole. Which puts them on roughly the same footing as me, who has to chant, “Lefty loosey, righty tighty” whenever I’m within a five-foot radius of a screwdriver, but who feels totally comfortable expressing himself.
I’m totally cool with being me. And you know what? That, for me, is what makes you a man – knowing who you are, being comfortable with it and not being ashamed to say: “This is my idea of what masculinity looks like.” It might have taken me seven weeks of moisturising, practising my handshake and pretending to exercise, but I got there. I’m proud to say it: I’m a bloody man, man.
Do what feels right with Philips: whether that’s finding your inner confidence or a grooming routine that works for you. Find out more at philips.co.uk/dowhatfeelsright
