While sitting on the toilet looking at the shelf of various and sundry items on the shelves, I spy my first razor. The old Gillette Atra sits bladeless and solitary among the clutter of aging toiletries. Half tubes of Blistex and Preparation H guard the almost empty jar of Tiger Balm, and Johnson’s Baby Wash. Three half bottles of rubbing alcohol hide the rusted bottom of the can of Edge Gel. While several other razor blades scatter about the shelves. The handle of that old razor is worn and stained with spatters of old, dried and hardened toothpaste and soap scum. I really liked that old razor.
What a stroke of marketing genius that old razor. Twenty-two years ago I got that razor and used it until just last year when I finally failed to find replacement blades. As a young man away from home for the first time in his life, that old razor became a tried and true friend in the Dopp kit. I had arrived at the college dormitory without a clue or a friend. I was ill prepared for dorm life. I was ill prepared for life in general. After finally finding my assigned room, I was glad to find the “Welcome Kit” left on the steel desk.
The welcome kit contained many essentials that a young man would need while at college, while away from home. There was a coupon book from the local Domino’s Pizza for Buy one get one free pizza. There was a sample of Calvin Klein cologne or maybe it was Pierre Carden. It doesn’t really matter. What does matter is that there was a can of Edge Gel and that Gillette Razor with replacement blades. I still use Edge Gel. However, that old razor has been retired like the fat kid in dodge ball.
Brand loyalty my friends. Brand loyalty was created in that welcome kit all those years ago. While some decided to have a shaving cream fight in the hallways of that old dormitory, others actually used that can of shave cream. Like a lot of seventeen year-old boys, we shaved once a week or two so that can of shave cream and razor lasted a long time.
I don’t eat at Domino’s much anymore. I usually don’t wear cologne although there are some who think I should. However, I still shave at least a portion of my face every few days. (Fair skin…what’s a man to do?)
Although I have a sparkling new razor that shaves close with forty-seven blades and vibrates too, I still look at that old razor and remember the good old days. There was the time I cut myself where the nose meets the upper lip and how it bled and bled and bled some more. The time I gently nicked the scrotum and how it hurt like hell and how I vowed never to shave my balls again. My old razor my old friend, funny how you went from my balls to my face in the same stroke. Not many friends would do that. Not many friends would want to do that.
That old razor was there for me just before I got laid…several times. That old razor was there for me before I got married. That old razor was there for me after the birth of four of my children.
I gingerly wiped my ass, pulled up my pants and flushed the toilet. I then took that old razor off that shelf and held it in my hand one last time. With a slight wetness or maybe a tear in my eye, I said, “You’re obsolete now…bitch!” and tossed that piece of worthless crap into the trash.
Just Damn!
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