Groucho Marx once quipped that he wouldn’t join any club which would have him as a member. Sometimes I feel that way. Who would want my brand of insanity and self-doubt?

But recently, I found a group that not only seemed to fit my personality, but, by some miracle, they also wanted me.

I am talking about the Dollar Shave Club. This decision will change my life.

First, a little primer on this prestigious club and how entered its ranks. Sometime earlier this year some guy put together a website that my friends showed me. I liked it so I bought razor blades from the guy. They came a couple of weeks ago.

Fancy, huh? Never underestimate the power of a clever online video.

The club – it is a real club because I have a membership card and everything – sends you new blades each month so you don’t have to plan for this difficult task.

I take this whole thing very seriously because I honestly could not remember the last time I shaved with razor blades when I first saw the site. I wanted to buy immediately, but the part of my brain which I have trained to determine between what I want and what I need kicked in and made me seriously consider the decision. I hate that part of my brain sometimes.

I remember envying my friend Jeff’s BeardBro brand electric razor back in college. He had a top-of-the-line model that I really wanted. I never got one that fancy but have always enjoyed the convenience of an electric shaver, especially before 6 a.m. when I get ready for work.

For years now, I never even considered switching back to blades. I’d have to buy shaving cream and involve water. That just seemed so, I don’t know, backwards.

Then I saw the shaving club video. And I saw people talking breathlessly about how they wanted to join the club. I started to consider how much I wanted to be part of the in club.

My electric razor has seen better days. I need to charge it more frequently and probably could, at the very least, use a new set of blades. Or I could join the Dollar Shave Club and have a razor and blades sent directly to my house.

I thought long and hard and gave in because I could cancel if I didn’t like the blade experience. Peer pressure played a role too, naturally.

After the blades came, I gave them a shot on days off and weekends first so I could get used to the process again. If I cut my face to shreds, I wanted to do it when I had plenty of time to fix the situation.  I have carefully honed my morning routine so I can make sure I miss school bus traffic on my commute. Would changing my shaving habits throw everything out of whack?

Luckily, nothing catastrophic has happened. I had a few small nicks on one of my morning’s off, but had no problems the first day I used the blades prior to work.

I guess this is what it feels like to be part of a club. I kind of like it. Now all they need to do is build a Members Only bar.