I am a man. A 41-year-old man, to be more precise. I am married, so I have done enough to attract and keep a woman interested in me. I have procreated – my three boys are proof of that. I love sports. I repeat: I love sports. I enjoyed playing football, basketball, and any other sport I could participate in while I was growing up. I love meat and I enjoy grilling the aforementioned meat. These are important things to know upfront because the next few paragraphs are somewhat embarrassing.
I have no interest in cars. I couldn’t begin to change the oil in my car or do any car-related repairs. I have tools but they are the basics, and even those I rarely use. I cannot build things. I am not handy around the house. (Though I am the good kind of handsy with my wife, but that is irrelevant information at this juncture…and borderline inappropriate.) I am an abject failure when it comes to fixing things in my home. I can change a light bulb or the batteries of a smoke detector, but ask me for more than that, and I will laugh in your face. Or cry. I cry a lot. At least, I cry when watching movies, listening to music, or reading books. I cry at church sometimes.
I hug my kids. I tell them I love them often – almost every day. I write sappy things. I care about emotions and feelings and things like that.
I don’t work out much…ever. I couldn’t beat most men in a wrestling match, though I would excuse myself since wrestling with other men sounds about as appealing as licking a cheese grater. When the world descends into a “Mad Max” hell-scape, I will be one of the first to die. I know it. I can’t pull off the whole dirty leather look and living in the desert would just be the worst. I could not survive in the wild for more than a few hours. I am not rugged.
Yet, I want people to think of me as a man’s man. I long to be viewed as a man that can handle himself in a fight. Someone who can take care of his family and if called into action could physically restrain an intruder. Reading that list above of all the things I am not good at, it would take me a lifetime to become proficient in them, and frankly, I don’t have that kind of time. And it sounds super hard. As previously stated, I am 41. I needed a way to improve my manliness without all the hard work.
So I grew a beard. A manly, glorious beard. I don’t want to brag, well, maybe a little, but my beard is awesome. When the light strikes it just right, it has red undertones that really make it hard to ignore. I’ve had complete strangers approach me and compliment my beard. No one ever did that when it was just my face. My beard has that kind of power. I can sense newfound respect in the eyes of people to whom I am speaking. Before people would look at me and my stupid beardless face and they would ignore me. No more! They see my luxurious beard and they can do nothing but listen to me with total admiration shining in their eyes.
Another benefit of having a magnificent beard is that it has amplified some of my already impressive skills. I’ve always had a good glare when someone has done me wrong or cut me off in traffic. Adding this amazing beard to the mix has turned that glare into a weapon that is almost too powerful. I brought a woman to tears the other day while driving home. She tried to merge into my lane with my car in the way and didn’t notice me (or my car) until I honked at her. She jerked back into her lane, looked in my direction, and I unleashed the glare. She looked both horrified and terrified. She immediately started bawling and nearly came to a complete stop on the interstate in an effort to escape my fierce, bearded glare. I hope she made it home safely. I’ve had to learn to temper the power of my glare now that I have an unbelievably cool beard.
So what’s my point? It’s simple actually. If you are like me and struggle with being as manly as you want to be – grow a beard. It doesn’t really fix any of your deficiencies but it makes you look so impressive that no one will even care anymore. For those sad, pitiful, unmanly men out there that can’t grow beards, I am so, so sorry. There is no hope for you. Just do us all a favor and try to stay out of public as much as possible. We don’t want to look at your ridiculously un-bearded face any more than we have to.
“He that hath a beard is more than a youth, and he that hath no beard is less than a man.” – Bill Shakespeare
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