Alternatively, I got hit on at the gym today. Either way, my beard was the focus of attention. I was at the gym today, minding my own business pounding out some dips, when all of a sudden some stranger approached saying he had a question for me. I assumed he just wanted to use the dip bars, so I immediately prepared to puff up my chest and tell him to fuck off. However, his real question caught me completely off guard: ”How long did it take you to grow that beard?”
I should note that this gentleman was slightly unshaven himself and seemed to be about my age. He proceeded to explain that he was trying to grow out his facial hair and was curious as to how long the process would take. Clearly the man had never heard of genetic variation in body hair distribution. I was so surprised by his question, I did the only thing I could think of: I answered honestly. I explained that my facial hair grows rather feebly so it took quite some time to produce the epic patch of landscape I’m rocking these days. As I was talking, it began to sink in just how awesome my facial hair must truly be. My manly swath of chin fir was so impressive strangers were eyeballing it enviously at the gym. Surely the ladies were all clamoring for a mustache ride atop my veritable forest of masculinity. Ron Swanson would be proud.
My confidence was soaring at this point. But then he said something that made me question everything I had just convinced myself to believe. ”Well, it looks nice on you.” Yes, folks, according to budding-beard guy at the gym, my beard looks nice. Obviously dudes can give each other complements. Hell, I’m not even above telling a guy I have a man-crush. But is it just me, or is there a vast difference between saying something looks good on you and that something looks nice? Suddenly I was getting an entirely different vibe from the guy. Perhaps it wasn’t my beard that drew him in after all, rather it was simply my roguish good looks. The beard could have just been a conversation-starter and a crafty way to slip in an early compliment. Who knows, he could have been stalking me for weeks and was strategically aware of my passion for manly facial hair.
Ultimately I don’t know if the man was truly fascinated with my beard or if he was just hitting on me. And honestly, I don’t care. If it was my beard, years of insecurity about my patchy facial hair are washed away. Even if it was just one man hitting on another man, it means the beard is doing it for somebody at least. Regardless, the takeaway point here is pretty simple.
My beard is fucking awesome.