I’ve been growing a beard for over a year and eight months now with great hopes of competing in the 2013 Beard and Mustache Olympics as part of Beard Team USA. I also think I have pretty decent style. Thoughts?
P.S. - Painfully obvious bathroom shot for the win! lol
That beard is going to be unstoppable - by 2013 you’ll certainly be an olympic hopeful. Thanks for the photo!
Send us your photos and show your style!
Why do people with facial hair get so much attention? Over the last year and a bit, beard love has spread throughout the world faster than pash rash (or any rash) at woodstock. Men are starting beard growing competitions, beard conversations are overheard at every turn, and beard blogging has swept the internet by storm. I dare say that beard growth in Sydney alone has risen at least 35% in the last 18 months, and it’s getting to breaking point.
I have two issues with beards. One is that beards have become a way for men to masturbate in public. My good friend Sam, who admittedly has a pretty solid beard (when you consider the rule of beard to small penis size ratio), is constantly touching it. He cannot go 5 minutes without playing with it, and he is obsessed (as all beardy weirdies are) with the size of it. He believes in it’s power to win ladies, and sometimes I think his beard has a mind of it’s own.
The second issue I have takes a little more explaining. When we were at work the other day, Sam lit up when another beardy weirdy complimented him on his beard. A big grin came across his face as he stopped doing what he was doing and put one hand up to gently rub it while returning the compliment. I think he managed to squeak out “it’s not quite as full as yours”, while blushing.
After that guy left, I got stuck into him about how bearded men love to jerk each other off over their beards. Sam then confessed a story which I think is essential reading for my second point.
Quote Sam (as closely as I can recall)
“I was out last night, and there was this guy who seriously had the best beard I had ever seen. It was so lush and plump, I seriously couldn’t believe. I had seen him around a few places before but I never had the courage to say anything to him, and I ALWAYS regret it. But with a few beers in me, my liquid courage was high and I realised this was the perfect opportunity for me to go and talk to him.
So I approached him from the other side of the room, and I could feel my heart pounding as I homed in on his facial foliage. As I did, the lights in the bar were catching the bits of drink and tartar sauce that were caught in his wirey muzzle and I was blown away by it’s beauty. A strange calm came over me at that moment, and I just knew what I was doing was right.
I got up close to him and caught his eye by flashing him a shot of my beard and smiling. He reacted well to my being coy (as most do) and we got talking. I told him that i’d seen him around, and that I’d always wanted to talk with him but I could never think of what to say. He giggled, said his name was Bruce and touched me on the shoulder. I blushed. I couldn’t be shy any longer, so I came out with it and just told him up front how I felt. ‘You have the best beard I have ever seen’ I just managed to sputter out between my lips that for some reason had become very tight, I think it was the nerves. He tried to compliment me back, but he was just being nice, we both knew his beard far exceeded anything mine could ever be. I told him that and he laughed so hard he spilled a bit of beer on his white t shirt, which revealed not too much, but just enough of the side of his nipple for me to confidently guage it’s diameter within 2mm. He told me to keep trying.
As we continued talking,we shared stories about our beard history, our friends with beards, different coloured beards, different beard styles and arrangements, beards we had seen, beards we had dreamed about, textures of beards especially those from different nationalities, our future plans for beards….the conversation was just flowing so seemlessly, I was so relieved! As my nerves started to calm down, I started to experience a strange feeling in my body. I don’t know what it was, and I still can’t explain it. All I knew was that the feeling was irrepressible . ‘Right now’, i thought to myself, ‘right now I have to ask’, and I knew then and there, while my confidence was high, that i had to ask him if I could touch it.
I wasn’t sure how to say it though. Would I come across as sleazy? I don’t want him to think I’m a slut or anything, and I dont want him to think that’s the impression I have of him….oh my gosh, my mind was racing! Eventually I thought to myself, ‘I am an honest guy, and this usually serves me well. I’m just going to be myself’, so I decided to go with an honest approach.
‘I don’t usually do this sort of thing. I mean, I hardly know you…but would it be ok if I touch it?’ I said quietly, so that his nearby girlfriend (tbc) wouldn’t overhear.
Bruce shot me a slightly startled look, and I thought I had ruined things for sure, but a second later his cheeky grin told no lies, “I don’t usually do this sort of thing either…but I really feel a connection with you Sam. I feel like even though we have just met, I can trust you, and I know you won’t hurt me”
He took a swig of his Vodka Sunrise and cocked his head. I closed my eyes and reached towards him, letting only my feelings guide my hands. When my fingertips brushed his heavenly growth, my god, it was the best one i’ve ever touched. I glided my hands through it effortlessly, and i could feel his warm cheeks and model-material bone structure beneath the dense plumage. His girlfriend shot a glance over and I quickly withdrew. I don’t think she really knew what was going on, but I couldn’t help but react that way.
I finished my Cosmo, and noticed Bruce was also nearly finished with his Vodka Sunrise so I offered to buy him another, but he said he had to work early the next day. I think his girlfriend must have noticed the electricity in the air because she came over and stood in between us, 3/4 facing bruce (3/4 back to me, bitch) and said she wanted to go home. All Bruce and I could do was put our glasses down next to each other and shake hands.
I wanted to say so much more, but all I managed to say was ‘see you then’, my sweaty palm sliding in his grip
‘Yeah, see you’ bruce replied, his eyes on mine like magnets.
And as he turned to leave I watched him walking away, praying he’d look back at me. He got all the way to the door and I was sure he was just going to be the tough one for both of us and not look back, but then just as he was sliding through the door he shot me a glance. I can’t confirm this because the strobe light was going crazy because Kylie’s new track had just come on, but I am almost positive he winked. I wanted to chase him but I couldn’t move. I wish I had, because now I don’t know if he winked or not, and I don’t even know if I’ll ever see him again! I guess i’ll just have to go back to the same bar at the same time again next week and do a stake out. I’ll wait there all night just to see Bruce again”.
…..I dunno about you guys, but those sorts of stories usually end in a phone number exchange at the very least. And so my second point stands, that bearded men use their beards as an excuse to flirt with other bearded men.
Sorry fellas, your secret is out!
the last line is absolutely true.
beards are this unspoken bond between men.
Beards. They’re wonderful. I love my own beard. The relationship between a man and his beard is unique. It’s this sense of pride at what your face can do with itself. Growing a beard makes you want to wear flannel and build things with your hands. It’s an effective tool to shield that pretty face of yours against the Arctic winds that beleaguer us here in New York and other cities along the Eastern Seaboard. My beard grows out red for some reason (I don’t have red hair), and I like nothing more than when the afternoon sunlight kisses that rugged facial masterpiece, giving it a beautiful copper glow. I feel good about myself and my body when I stand before the mirror on a Sunday evening, shirtless, as I trim and tame that majestic mane that serves as a masculine ornament and a tribute to the Herculean warriors that have come before us modern men. I encourage my friends to grow beards, and when No Shave November comes around I become almost militant about it. They say it makes them look older, and I fully concur. Without the beard, I look like a twelve year old… as opposed to now when I look like a twelve year old with a beard, which is infinitely more awesome and does not dampen my self-esteem in any way.
In this ode to beards, my dear friends and followers I have something to ask of you, a request for the coming year you might think of it.
If you are a bearded male, I congratulate you brother on your effort, and I admire that facial medal. Take good care of your beard, cleanse it, perfume it and display it with pride.
If you are an unbearded male, I encourage you brother to put that razor down and see what your face is capable of doing. See how liberating it is to not have to fret over shaving regularly. Try it, experiment a little and see how you like it. You say your job/school/residence/spaceship doesn’t allow beards, I say fuck the police. You say your girlfriend/boyfriend/mother/roommate doesn’t like facial hair, I say tell them that it’s your face and you will do whatever the hell you want with it! (Except get a face tattoo. Don’t get a face tattoo.)
If you are a female, DO NOT GROW A BEARD. It’s not that I’m being selfish or misogynistic. Beards are manly; it may be a social construct or it may be biology. Either way, this cannot stop you from being a bearded sister at heart by supporting the bearded males you know. This means do not ask them to shave it, or drop hints on how they look better without it, or make jest of their facial attempts at hair growth. Instead compliment the man on his beard, stroke his face every once in a while, and maybe buy him a flannel shirt.
And with this my dear friends, I will bid you adieu as I drive off into the sunset.