I believe in bearded men.
Some of my fondest childhood memories involve male relatives and family friends with big, inviting beards. My favorite uncle, Tim, who left my aunt when I was about 7 or 8, had a wonderful mustache/beard combo. He was big and jolly and took everything lightly. He was the funniest man I knew and I was devastated when he and my aunt divorced. My second cousin, Raymond, has had an intense lumberjack beard for the past 30 years. His wife, Vicky, told him she would leave him if he ever shaved it (she’s my kind of woman). Raymond loves everybody, gives unbeatable bear hugs, and has no shortage of joy for life, though he has been through devastating times.
I was involved in an unfortunate relationship for three years with a man I thought was my soul mate. We experienced every horrible thing a couple can: a life-threatening illness, drug and alcoholic addiction, and no shortage of infidelity. But the one thing that defined our end was simply this: he refused to grow a beard for me. I begged and pleaded with him nearly every day we were together. Every time I would kiss his smooth cheek, I would float off into a dreamland of Gary, with a nice scruffy beard that I could rub my face against for hours. I finally realized that his refusal was an extremely defining characteristic. In addition to not growing a beard, he was unable to complete other extremely simple tasks relevant to our success as a couple. I waited (almost) patiently though him being unemployed, an alcoholic, unsupportive, unemotional, and distant. However, when I finally realized that he absolutely was not going to grow a beard for me, I lost it. How difficult is this: I am asking you to put as little thought into your physical appearance as possible in order to make me happy. You can’t do that? Well, then we’re through.
I spent three months looking for love in all the wrong places. Men with goatees, scum-staches, and stubble would flit in and out of my life. I finally found Sean, a man who I had always admired as a friend and beard aficionado. He loves his beard as much as I do. I count my blessings every time he kisses me and his beard rubs against my face; he even lets me stroke it when I am deep in thought. Sheer heaven. Actually, almost orgasmic.
Is there anybody happier than a man with a beard? I dare you to find me one. Some of the greatest people in history have had beards. My personal favorite was Jim Morrison—a beautiful soul, a beautiful face and body, an incredibly apt poet and philosopher, and with a big fat beard. To the amateur beard entrepreneur, I would also recommend Jesus. Beards come in all shapes and sizes, and mark all different kinds of men, but the effect a beard has on its owner’s personality is irrefutable. A bearded man is always happier, warmer (literally and figuratively), and more compassionate than a clean-shaven one. Although it is a stereotype, go into a health food store, a yoga studio, or a museum and look around. How many beards do you see? We can safely conclude, then, that bearded men are more enlightened: they eat healthier food, take care of their bodies, and are intellectual and worldly. Plus, they are generally cuddlier, love to laugh, and are generous and sprightly.
There is a Bulgarian proverb which urges all of humanity to “seize opportunity by the beard, for it is bald behind.” I believe that the world would be a far better place if only all the men of the human race would grow beards. Statistically speaking, every war that has ever been fought has been waged by beardless men, out of jealousy toward those with luxurious facial hair. (Haven’t you seen photos of the Civil War?) Sure, they will substitute excuses like politics, food shortages, or religious disagreements, but it is always a cover-up.
Men, I implore you, do not fight your beard! Accept yourself and your destiny and allow your beard to blossom. You will achieve a greater understanding and love of yourself and the whole world will thank you. Most importantly, I will thank you, from the very bottom of my beard-loving heart.
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