Happy beardthday, Beard. You are four months old today, and despite twelve or so weeks of practice, I still have no idea how to comb you properly.

People may say that you’re starting to get bit unruly, but I say you’re just developing a personality all your own. And that personality is a cross between a homeless drifter, a pirate, and that guy who lives in the woods with a bear named Ben. Sure, your testosterone driven existence might be repellent to most modern sophisticates like #1GF!, but there are those women out there who grew up hot for Mr. Chuck Norris, and you roundhouse kick them right to the heart. They might be as difficult to find as an R in a Bostonian conversation, but if those ladies got within fifty feet of you, you would drag them in like a magnet.

But, despite all your macho wonder, Beard, we have to get some things out in the open. It’s been sixteen weeks and there has been mounting pressure from #1GF! to push you out the door. And on a couple of those random warm days we’ve had, I will admit that my lack of a seaworthy gallion may have briefly lured me into considering her point of view. You know how much I like having you around, but I have to admit that the evidence is being slowly stacked against you. #1GF! has figured out that answering questions on shaving by yelling “Isaac Hayes!” or “Mr. T!” are just diversionary jibber jabber, and I’m doubtful that she will even consider validating your usefulness as a pen storage device. While talking like I’m a character from the 1800’s seems to make her laugh, I don’t think it can carry us much further. Our only remaining hope may be the unrelenting New England weather.

You know as well as I do that this time of year in New England, the weather is as tricky as a crack addicted spider monkey. One minute it’s dancing for pennies, and the next it’s jumping on your back trying to cram it’s monkey parts where they would be most unnatural. Last week, we had a 50 degree day. This week, it’s 9 degrees with a big enough wind chill to give you an ice cream headache. No loving woman would send their man out in the cold without a jacket just because it’s not fashionable, right? Climate beats fashion, even if it is a Kobra Kai sweatshirt, Freezy Freakies, or a beard.

So, even though I may have run out of ideas with which to defend you, you should be safe at least until Spring. And lucky for you, in New England, Spring usually starts in May, and we call it Summer.

Happy Beardthday!

Posted in Beards