metrosexuality is a MYTH

I have just cleaned the house. I am sick, ok? SICK? SIIIICK. S-I-C-K. What I do not want to be doing is cleaning. I feel faint and like vomiting. Whilst doing this highly unpleasant task I came to a conclusion. Metrosexuality is a myth. A completely delusional ideal formed by women to make themselves feel better. A way of pigeon holeing man into a niche. If you looked into our kitchen (as of about 2 hours ago) you would know this. No matter how advanced the male specimen happens to be, nor how in touch with his feelings he is, nor how clean he regards himself to be - there are certain places, things etc a man will not go/ do. I learnt this when I came to realise that there a certain jobs Guy has not ever done in our flat. These involve the slightly more disgusting household tasks:

• He has never cleaned the toilet
• Or has changed the toilet brick (You know, the thing that you hang in the bowl to deliver freshness with every flush.
• I dont think he has cleaned the bath or changed the bath towels
• Cleaned the plughole
  
• Emptied the bathroom bin
• Cleared a backlog of dishes
• Cleaned out the bin when its been leaking
• Watered the plants
• Bleached the sink
• Cleaned the carpet
• Cleaned the kitchen floor
• Sorted the recycling (I dont think he even knows where our local recycling point is)

(picture from http://hydralisk.wordpress.com/2007/10/)
Guy is a lovely individual, great to live with, generally very tidy. Extremely evolutionarily advanced as men go - but these things are beyond him despite him putting across the image of the elusive metrosexual man. This situation would be worse with the non metrosexual man, like Martin or my brother or my father. I dread to think what living with Martin would be like in terms of hygiene and standards. We are polar opposites in terms of what constitutes tidy - I like order, cleanliness and dust free surfaces, he is of the more liberal-couldn't-give-a-shit-its -only-a-few-things-lying-about persuasion. I can see know why my mum does all the cleaning in her house. Its not that my dad can't or won't. Its just that it won't be up to her standard which is something I now appreciate. I mean if you have to clean it again if its not done right, you may as well do it yourself in the first place.

After staying in Martin's bachelor flats both in Liverpool and Gävle I understand my mum completely. (This DOES NOT mean Im turning into my mother, just that I know why she cleans so much). Usually when I stay with Martin there is so much crap everywhere that I feel the need to wipe a few surfaces, put some clothes away, maybe get the floor so that I can see the carpet. It gives me a headache to be in such mess. I mean HOW does he manage to have his clothes everywhere? He doesnt even have as many clothes as I do.






Martins view of tidy










My view of tidy



Therefore I can only assume the truly metrosexual man to be a rare creature probably only seen in zoos next to the baboons with bright red arses and chimapanzees grooming each other. As Bill Bailey said "He is a large creature can be seen at dusk, scurrying towards the buffet table..."