BlankBeards

Facial hair: a trending phenomenon in 75% of men ages 18-35. Tres chic. The hipster handlebar. The full on folk artist beard. Organic vegan mange. Meathead chinstrap goatees. Whatever your preferred style, I figured I'd use it as an opportunity to take a few bearded boys from my past and put an intimate twist on my thoughts about hairy little faces. The bearded boys have been named accordingly…


-SmartBeard -
You're probably the most intelligent man I've ever known, and it completely fascinated me. I could sit for hours just listening to you talk. And I did, even when you weren’t talking to me. You knew all these things that nobody else did, and it was pretty fucking hot. But what totally ruined it for me was everything that accompanied this wise, all-knowing persona you cultivated for yourself; the dry sense of humor that offended all my friends, random remarks on obscure topics that nobody else understood, and the old man beard that served no purpose but to intensify a cliche. You even smoked a pipe and drank scotch. It was like I was trying to get with Gandolf or something. You couldn't just be yourself, you had to be this bearded intellectual guy all the time. And the beard actually made you less legit in the end, a chilly disguise that hid your good heart, a hairy strategy that made you too smart to relate to anyone. And that shit is lame. It separates you from the rest of the world in all the wrong ways. For your sake, I hope you’re a lot softer now than you were back then. It feels better. Love always, the young lady temporarily blinded by your bearded Light.


-YoungBeard -
Being fearless but timid is a really attractive contradiction of qualities. You put magic in the air around you, casting little spells with a charm you don’t even know you possess. I’m sure one day you’ll know how to use it to your full advantage, but for now you’re endearing and sweet. At first I couldn’t really understand why I kept agreeing to hang out with you. It didn’t make any kind of sense, and I knew it was weird and out of the ordinary, an unlikely pair…but then after a while I didn’t really a fuck. I just liked how it felt when you were around. We would just drive around for hours like the night would never end. And in that darkness you made me feel like the prettiest girl in the world under an umbrella of fateful stars. You had a way of erasing from existence our difference in age, like the years wouldn't quite matter if we put on the right songs and outran the sun. You knew all the books of the Bible. I liked that. I still do. And once I pulled over so you could catch a stray kitten, I still like that too. And maybe I liked your beard so much because it made you appear beyond your years. It was kind of scraggly and unkempt, and it made you look like a carefree man. A grown up man. It eased the sense of impending confusion I was starting to feel about the chemistry between us. And even though there are still things I'd like to tell you, still lots of music I'd like to show you, and still nights I miss those candy coated whispers from the driver's seat to my ear; I don’t think either of us really knew what to do with it all. And now we only have the courage to see each other when other people are around. So in another time and place that lives inside my mind, we’re young enough to give it a shot, old enough to know what it means, and forever dancing in a foggy calm that nobody else can see. C’est la vie. YoungBeards should fly high and free.


-HotBeard - 
HotBeard was fine as hell. And so fucking stupid. For real, the guy was just not bright. We were both flight attendants with bigger dreams. Most young flight attendants have these "bigger dreams," by the way. It's as if we think that seeing the world will enlighten us to a higher plane, no pun intended. Sometimes it works, other times we just remain lost in the sky. But anyway, the difference between his dream and mine was that his was basically to become some sort of Derrick Zoolander. And he really fit the bill. He was the most striking construction of chiseled features and remarkable physique that God ever created. But the dumbest shit came out of his mouth - casting calls, models he’d dated, auditions. And he was way cooler when he was drunk. He even borrowed lunch money from me at the airport once, which was a complete turnoff, but totally worked for him. It really suited the insanely attractive/not so smart/struggling actor vibe he was going for. His facial grooming of choice was little more than a 5 o'clock shadow, but not yet a full-on beard. Just scruff. Perfect scruff. And man oh man, did it do it for me...for just one night in Puerto Rico. It was like his whiskers turned me into a giddy little schoolgirl, willingly handing over her lunch money, while blushing in front of all her friends. That scruffy stupidity was his hustle. Get it, HotBeard.


-FatBeard - 
When we first met you didn't have facial hair. I fell in love with you immediately, and stayed in love with you for a long time. I felt like I stood before you, heart in hand, day after day after day, knowing full well you’d never accept such a gift, but always returning to try again. I really believed that you were the one for me, and I thought I'd love you with everything I had until the day I died. Even if it hurt, and even if you never loved me back. It was beautiful.beautiful.beautiful. But then you got pretty fat. And then after you got fat, you grew this thick bush on your face to somehow "complement" the weight gain. Someone even called you Kenny Rogers once at a hotdog stand. And you did, you looked like a fat Kenny Rogers with that shit on your face. But still, the butterflies in my stomach remained unfazed every time you entered a room, or bought me a drink, or so romantically asked if I wanted to see your dick. I didn't care, I still loved Kenny Rogers. For real, I really loved your fat ass. But now that everything’s said and done, I can safely say that I just didn't get the chunky ass Jesus Christ look you were going for. Kind of fat is ok. Bad beard is ok. The Messiah is always cool, but fat with a bad beard is never a winning combination. But the weird thing is that it was in fact a winning combination, because you still got more ass than anyone I knew. And you probably still do. So FatBeard, much respect, my love.


-BlackBeard - 
Alright, so he wasn't really black, he was Dominican. I just couldn't really tell at first. And he had lots of money that he showed off profusely. Had he not possessed this unfortunate quality, I might have been able to disregard the teensy tiny line of black hair that outlined his face like an eyeliner mishap. But that kind of redemption is reserved for people who deserve it, and he didn't. When he shaved it off he was really good looking, it made me notice his muscles more than that unsightly distraction framing his jaw. What are dudes thinking when they style their facial hair in this manner? Despite the fact that it's hair, and being hairy is masculine, it actually looks sort of feminine. It's just not a good look unless you're one of those homothugs. You know the type, gay and ghetto at the same time. Lots of times they're ex-ravers, or B-boys, and always in community college (or an equally Chlamydia ridden state school). Like I said, this look works for them. And nobody else. Nobody else, BlackBeard.


Here’s my weak ass conclusion: Sometimes beards are sexy. Sometimes they’re a really terrible accessory. Sometimes they’re just a really good excuse to write about people you’ve cared for. Do your thing, even if it makes you look homeless, and even if it makes you seem like an asshole. But when the rug burn gets away with a little piece of me, don’t be pissed if I don’t wanna kiss you as much.