Stand by Your Manhood (18 page)

Then, of course, there’s the whole double standard of fitness as sexual appeal.

Only recently there was a Victoria’s Secret advert which sparked ‘outrage’ because all its models were lithe and toned. Critics photoshopped bigger, alternative bodies onto the ad and created a meme. Then there’s the Dove ‘Real Women’ campaign which sees plus-sized, shapely sisters lining up to show off their rounder bodies as proof of big beauty.

But can you imagine if men did the same? Let’s say we make a similar response to the David Gandy underwear posters for Marks & Spencer – complete with men in pants showing off their beer bellies, bald spots and ingrown hairs with the strapline ‘This Is What Real Men Look Like’ – there’d be all the typical hatred and resistance. Yet, whilst women have anorexia and bulimia, guess what – so do men. They also have an entire sub-culture of ‘bigorexia’ which sees them pump their bodies with steroids and protein shakes because all they’re ever told is that bulge size matters – not just in the trousers or the wallet, but in the arms and chest too.

Still, columnists would fall over themselves to say how ugly the male body is or point to the images as proof of what horrors women ‘suffer’ in the bedroom. Actually, the opposite is true.

See, whilst we’re on the subject of sex, it turns out that going down on Catherine Zeta-Jones might kill us, too. Is
nothing
sacred? When actor Michael Douglas announced his battle with throat cancer was caused by oral sex – or, more specifically, the HPV virus contracted through oral sex – he made a nation of men gulp at the realisation they’re living with a ticking timebomb. The 69-year-old, who fought a six-month battle with the disease, said: ‘Without wanting to get too specific, this particular cancer is caused by HPV, which comes about from cunnilingus.’

Currently, girls aged twelve and thirteen are routinely vaccinated against the virus because of its link to cervical cancer. They also receive a top-up injection at eighteen. But for men, there’s no effective screening test and no NHS immunisation.

We might shrug our shoulders to this, but cases of oral cancer have risen by 50 per cent among UK men since 1989 and now account for almost 2,000 deaths per year. HPV infections also remain common in men as they get older, whereas it tends to become less prevalent in their female counterparts. This may be because men are less likely than women to develop immunity, even after repeated exposure. Additional research conducted by scientists at the Cancer Centre and Research Institute in Florida found those with fifty or more sexual partners were 2.4 times more likely to develop cancer than those with just one.

Worried? You should be. I call Macmillan Cancer Support and hope they’ll play it down, but they don’t. They can’t. ‘We know the number of oral cancers related to the HPV virus in men is rising, so it is important to take this seriously,’ says Dr Rosie Loftus, the charity’s lead GP advisor.

Unsurprisingly, the wider issue of cancer is no more morale-boosting. Currently, women are screened for breast cancer, ovarian and cervical cancer – which, again, is great – but excuse me if I don’t jump up and down. It’s either a) the weight of my male privilege or b) the sobering reality that there’s
still
no screening programme for prostate cancer, even though we know it kills four times more men than cervical cancer does women. In fact, experts predict that in twenty years’ time prostate cancer will be the most common form of the disease – which is alarming considering only half the population have prostates.

Don’t be too shocked by this. Research compiled by Cancer Research UK illustrates that men are 16 per cent more likely to develop every single form of unisex cancer in the first place, then 40 per cent more likely to die from it. Despite this, their Race for Life fundraiser bans men and boys from participating every year – just because they’re male and, presumably, might put poles in the grass and expect all the lady runners to dance around them, gyrating and pouting for their entertainment.
BECAUSE ALL MEN DO THIS, ALL THE TIME, AND NO MEN EVER WANT TO SIMPLY FUNDRAISE FOR CANCER WITHOUT BECOMING HYPNOTISED BY THE SEXUAL POWER OF WOMEN AND OBJECTIFY THEM.

‘Three years ago, we seriously investigated the possibility of including men in Race for Life,’ they told me. ‘However, our research showed that our supporters would strongly prefer to keep it a female-only event as it’s a unique opportunity for women to come together in a non-competitive activity within an atmosphere of sisterhood.’

Ah, I see. So forget that men are universally dying from cancer more frequently, and faster, than women. Instead, we should worry about keeping the texture of a global disease ‘special’ to reserve a charity’s USP. To be fair, I’m sure teenage boys who’ve lost their mother to cancer love nothing more than double-glazing the glass ceiling whilst 500 women in New Look leggings walk, briefly jog, immediately slow down to a canter, then walk again, in a field on a wet Sunday.

Somebody book me a fucking room in Dignitas before this madness gets any worse.

Naturally, I see their point – they don’t want to change a winning formula. But
my
point is that it’s only a winning formula if you’re a woman, which – by the very principle of equality – means it’s NOT a winning formula.

Being realistic, it’s us men who have long been making the rules, so, if inconsistencies have been put in place, it’s likely we shot ourselves in the foot. But, at the same time, we’ve long had a grip on equality, with plenty of powerful women making decisions too, so all this could’ve ironed out by now. Instead, there isn’t one person in government who’s responsible for improving men’s health. Not one.

This, you might say, is a total pisser. Not least because another toss of the dice and it could be me. My father had cancer, as did my mother. With the exception of some love handles, I’m pretty much in shape according to BMI standards, but let’s be honest: I drink a bit too much, occasionally smoke and have a typical journalist’s diet (box wine and canapés). Given my family history and my lifestyle combined, chances are I’ll also develop the Big C. On one hand, I can deal with this prospect – it’s the Russian roulette of life. Everybody gets something. But what I absolutely can’t resolve – and I’ve tried – is that I’m much, much, much more likely to die for the simple reason that men aren’t politically fashionable.

One person who experienced this first-hand was my Uncle Al.

Back in the early ’60s, he was already a Suffragent. Yes, he forever had girlfriends, but he also made it clear that he’d never marry because, quite simply, he enjoyed his
freedom and marriage was a con. He also didn’t casually spawn children – never had any, by choice, and managed this carefully. Ultimately, he was faithful to himself, which is the cornerstone of any manhood-standing bloke.

That said, he was also a
Carry On
character in our very own family. First there was the time he worked as an accounts clerk at the Bird’s Eye factory in Liverpool during the 1970s and, spotting a woman he regularly played practical jokes with, grabbed her by the ankles and tipped her into the 5ft-deep freezer she was browsing – only to realise it was somebody else. Then there was the day he went commando in a pair of light-green summer trousers to the office, only to be told by a neighbour on his way home that they were see-through. Or the time he was asked to completely undress for a medical and ‘get on the examination bed’, only for the doctor to return some time later – after various nurses had been in and out – and urge: ‘Mr McCracken, I meant
under
the sheets.’

By 2007, when commerce in Liverpool picked up, he worked for a firm in the Cunard Building – one of the city’s three architectural graces alongside the famous Liver Birds. As he approached a well-earned and comfortable retirement, having worked all his life, he started complaining of stomach pains. IBS, we casually diagnosed. Maybe an ulcer. Too much food?

For months he went to his doctor’s as the pain
worsened and his weight plummeted, but, in the midst of a busy GP surgery packed with women and children, I can only assume he didn’t stand out as being particularly important. Over time, his doctor failed to order the right tests. Even when she did, she lost the results. She later promised to make a referral to a specialist, but forgot. On one occasion she called him in for his appointment by the wrong name as she clutched another man’s file, even though he was now a regular. Together, this all conspired to create the perfect storm which meant his bowel cancer was left undetected for so long it had spread.

Six weeks later he was dead.

That was in 2009, but even now, years on, I wonder: what more could’ve been done to save him? Did the fact he was a man make him fall to the back of the queue? Sounds like typical loss speaking, yes, but if the statistics show we die at higher rates and at younger ages than women, and that funding for male care is often non-existent – meaning we’re invisible on paper – why wouldn’t plenty of men be killed by inadvertent discrimination as a consequence? And, if I’m right, should we be worried as the NHS becomes increasingly female?

Two years ago I caused a storm when I sued my local gym for hosting a women’s hour – in part, to get beyond the media veil on men’s issues. Specifically, I objected to the sports centre banning men and boys for 442 hours
each year – despite charging them the same annual fee as women. I suggested they change their policy with one of three alternatives: a) maintain a women’s hour but introduce a men’s alternative for fairness, b) keep women’s hour (and only women’s hour) but annually charge men less, or c) scrap single-gender sessions altogether.

They declined. Their justification? Lots of women feel bad about their bodies – and, essentially, all men are perverts, so I should suck it up.

This ridiculous ruling simply proved my theory that everyone is looking at the wrong end of the telescope. Actually, it’s
men
who need more assistance getting into gyms – not women. Why? Because the physical pressure on them, working full-time, combined with all of the above, actively contributes to our shorter life expectancy.

One reason women live longer is because, among other things, they have more choices: chances to shift gear or change lanes. The opportunity to opt out of the rat race at any time. They can be career women, work in PR until they get married, or be a lady who lunches. Perhaps a combination of all three. Generally, men need to be self-reliant always, all the time, forever. Increased fitness offsets this.

In Augusten Burrough’s
Running with Scissors,
he talks about playing ‘Bible Dip’ in his youth – an act of divination he likens to asking a Magic 8 Ball a question,
only to God. For the response, he would open the Bible at a random page and whatever word his finger landed on was the answer. I apply this approach to the nearest copy of
Healthy for Men
which my Dad, now seventy, reads whilst eating half a pack of biscuits. Even though he’s diabetic since his cancer treatment.

I audibly ask it: ‘Aside from the aforementioned, what is the big, unspoken men’s health issue of the moment?’ And let the pages fall. The results are less biblical, more typical. First there’s ‘Pack a Pork Lunch’, which presents the virtues of a protein-heavy diet, followed by a feature on how to build last-minute, pre-holiday muscle (which I rip out and keep, but never read), then a briefing on the benefits of Vitamin D. All pedestrian stuff, really.

Dispirited, I give it one last go – and am momentarily stunned into stillness. Fuck! I cannot quite believe it. There’s a feature on male suicide. Contained in a magazine. About men’s health. It’s almost
logical
.

The people behind it are from CALM, the Campaign Against Living Miserably, who’ve fought tooth and nail to break into the public consciousness with the real men’s health, forcing us onto the agenda in the face of resistance.

‘Don’t be fooled. Many organisations have a vested interest in ignoring men,’ says Jane Powell, the charity’s dynamic director.

Finally! Some sense. And it couldn’t have come at a better time – our suicide rates are at a ten-year high and show no signs of slowing down. In 2012, there were 5,981 cases, of which 4,590 were male.

Unfortunately, this alone means it’s not worthy of mainstream attention.

‘If we were talking about women it’d be a piece of piss – we’d have high-profile celebrity supporters and slots on breakfast TV. The media would relish it,’ she adds.