You know, I’ve always seen myself as fitting securely into the ‘macho’ category rather than meeting the criteria of the ‘metrosexual’, but I still came
under fire from my girlfriend recently, owing to a particularly embarrassing hissy fit I through when contemplating the possibility of losing one of
teeth and having to get a replacement.

I had been out for a rather large session with my rugby team mates and had woken to find one of my front teeth giving me some real gip. Thinking I had
taken a knock to it and further thinking the beer wouldn’t have helped things, I suddenly panicked at the thought of having a massive black hole in the
centre of my smile, a dodgy look our prop forward has perfected to the fright of passing children.

My girlfriend giggling by my side, I entered the reception of one of the finest Dublin dentists growling to myself that if they couldn’t save my beloved tooth there would be a large flashing buying a dental practice guide notice placed with immediate effect in the large front window. Yes,
I was being silly, yes, the tooth was saved with a course of relatively painless cosmeticdentistryguide.co.uk/articles/root-canal.html treatment,
but I ask: Does this whole episode make me less of a man?

Shut up dear, you made your judgment clear on the day.