Catholic-obsessive-compulsive grandmother had a huge influence on me growing
up. She is part of the reason I'm such a
worry wart. She's also part of the
reason I have such strange thoughts running through my head all the time. Whenever she sensed me putting a gorgeous
girl on a pedestal, she'd bring me right back down to earth. She'd tell me:
you ever find yourself getting too wrapped up into a girl—remember, she craps."
tried to find other ways of keeping girls in perspective since then. One of my strategies is to remind myself
that, while they may not worry as much as I do, girls worry about things. So I've laid out some things men worry about
so that girls can remind themselves that we worry too. Some you may already know, and some may
hair look ok?
I'm a bit
extreme in my obsession over my hair, but I know other guys have gone through
phases where they worry that their hair sucks. After college, I suddenly realized that my hair mattered—I couldn't just
wear a giant bush on my head. Since
graduation I've jumped from gay hairdresser to gay hairdresser. That's right: hairdresser, not
barber. While some of my buddies run up
the street to get their hair cut for $10, I trek across town to a trendy
section of Manhattan
to see Ricardo, my gay hairdresser, at Tela Salon. After I'm served hot tea and get expert
treatment (think Cowardly Lion when he gets to the Emearld City), I drop $50
for their services—kind of extreme but ,hey, I've decided that my whole
appearance is based on my hair.
whether I need some stubble on a night out. I think I look really bad without any shadow there. But sometimes I hit this terrible spot where
it's too long, and if I shave it I'll be completely bare. My rule of thumb is to shave Thursday
night—perfect stubble for Friday and Saturday night usually grows in by then.
goes way back. I remember those first
few days when I realized I could get B.O. Luckily a lot of things need to happen for me to get it—I need to do
more than go to the gym without showering to get it. But that didn't stop my friend and I from
getting on the phone on prom night and counting out our licks of deodorant
together: "one, two, three..." all the way to 50. And at my college homecoming tailgate, upon cracking my first beer open
at 8 AM, I told my buddy I was freaked out because I forgot to put on
not going to worry about this all day," he said. And he refused to walk back to our house with
me to get it. Finally, I tricked him into going to a nearby McDonalds to grab a
hash brown. While he was in line, I
snuck to a convenience store and threw down $5 for deodorant that eventually
disappeared into the field's beer-muck by the end of homecoming after just one
use (though I put on about 5 days worth).
minutes? One hour?
should we have sex? After too long,
girls get sore. If it's too short, she
might be unsatisfied.
body as gross as mine?
beautiful mornings in bed with a girl are often tainted by the maelstrom
occurring in my stomach. Why is it that
my stomach waits until I'm in bed with a girl in the morning to process gas as
if it's the day after Thanksgiving? I've
been in bed with many a girl in the morning while that amazing light pours in
the window, only to find myself focusing on controlling my butt so that no
bombs are emitted. I usually find a way
to get into the bathroom where I just stand there and fart for about two
minutes. Sad thing is, none of my
buddies are there to share some of the most amazing farts I've ever done with
me. Only once, on Spring break, when a
bunch of us were in one bed—the girls we were with were just our buddies—I just
let it loose. One of the girls on the
floor downstairs from us cried out: "ew, gross!" Girls, I'd hate to say it but most guys have
this problem: in the morning we have gas
buildup that, if released, would rip right through floorboards (pine, mahogany,
you name it). However, when we wake up
alone, we are perfectly gas free. Amazing how that works.
worry about the same sorts of things?