“Male Erotic Massage” was to start in one hour in the big tent, lots of rubbing in the and around the penial area and men making whooping noises.

Happening at that moment however, in the little tent, was “Manscaping”. We went inside to find a drag queen, and two speedo-boys on their knees armed with electric clippers.

Dominic, Reynaldo and my brother jumped in line. I went to sit on the cushions with Misty and watch. Dry heat, dust, and electric clippers spell one thing for me, rash.

Dominic was the first to go and had to explain that he tended to get aroused rather easily. Sure enough Dominic’s flagpole went right up as the clippers began their journey round his pubus maximus. Well done Dominic, Reynaldo is a lucky man.

Reynaldo went next. He jumped before one of the speedo-boys, legs apart, fists to his hips, ready to be groomed in his Superman stance.

My brother found himself naked before the drag queen named Cupcake. He was told that the cum bucket was over to his right. The clipping began and the hair started to fall.

Now, Manscaping, the art of landscaping the male body, was something I always thought of as being in the homosexual domain. The thought process went something like this:

Men primping and preening their bodies, it sounds like pre-revolution France. The next thing you know we’ll all be wearing make-up and stockings and high heels. It’s a sign of the fall of the empire. We’ll never win the next war like that.

It is possible for any of us to be small minded.

Watching these well toned bodies get manscaped, seeing natural gardens carefully tended I began to see things differently.

Riding out to the Playa with three freshly shaved scrotums beside me it seemed manscaping was rather a celebration of the body.

When I mentioned this to Reynaldo he told me how in ancient times Greek and Trojan warriors used to cover their bodies in oil and then use a stick to scrape the oil off. The dirt would come off with it and the warriors bodies would be left glistening and soft from the oil.

( As an aside Reynaldo also mentioned how the name Trojanz is rather silly for a condom as the Trojans are famous for letting just one thing through the gate and that was the end of everything. )

There is certainly a danger to vanity. I can remember stories of girls at Vanderbilt waking up two hours before class to primp. And there is the absurdity of Louis XVI court. But there is this other side, the side of the warriors, an anointing and taking care of the vessel we use to make our way through the world.

So I decided to try it.

First things first, do not try and shave your own ass.

There’s no good angle, your hands are too wet to hold your cheeks apart and god help you if the razor slips.

All right, moving on.

Manscaping is fabulous, your chest shaved down, treasure trail maintained, nipples clear, to say nothing of a smooth and soapy package. It’s as though you’ve been wearing a long sleeved shirt beneath your cashmere sweater. Suddenly you take the shirt off and realize, “My god, this is what cashmere feels like.”

You feel everything, the wind, your shirt, your own thighs. Everything becomes an opportunity for arousal. Misty’s hands were like magic. Your whole body stands up and cries hello.

And that’s after the fact. The actual process is Manscaping is a journey of appreciation. You become very free with yourself, pulling yourself this way and that, looking at places that are yours but you’ve probably never seen.

I have never touched myself so gently. Granted part of that is fear as I was wielding a razor, but as I grew more comfortable with the razor my touch continued. It was a very loving touch, and erotic. I saw the curves of my body like never before.

I thought of those warriors and what their bodies meant to them. Their bodies kept them alive, saved them, and they bestowed blessings in turn upon their bodies.

I could never be that in touch with my body unless I sat on a beach for 10 years and lay siege to a city with all my best and worst friends. But manscaping has changed the way I am in my body. I am aware of my skin, of my muscles beneath, of how strong and tender it all is.

It’s true that I now have a rash. But it seems a small price to pay. When my brother came home to his wife, Octavia, she loved her manscaped man. And Reynaldo and Dominic were the hit of the male erotic massage class.

Me, I’m thinking it might be time to find me a stick and cover myself in oil. I have no hand-to-hand combat to engage in but clean, glistening and soft does sound nice.