Why I’m Growing A Beard

Maybe I’m a bit of a hypocrite, but try to hear me out anyway.  A while back I posted about how great it was to buck the system and finally get a good shave.  A few days after posting that I stopped shaving.

The problem is people.  I’m a bit of an introvert with dreamy thoughts in my head and closely guarded secrets.  I don’t know what to say to strangers.  Half the time I don’t even know what to say to my closest friends.  Seriously, sometimes I spend hours trying to come up with the perfect opening joke or the perfect item of interest just in case I run into Stopsign, Sparky, Kate, or any of my other oddly named friends.

All this is to say, if I’m behind you in line and turn around and say “I really like chicken,” I’m going to have no idea how to respond.  I’ll probably stumble over my words before managing to squeak out, “That’s great because this is the line for chicken.”  And once I’ve said that I will probably look down at the ground and pray that you don’t have any other earth shattering revelations to share with me.

And if I’m at your cash register and you decide to show me pictures of your grandkids, I’m not going to be sure of how to handle that either.  I’ll probably say something like, “Wow, your grandkids are cute.” But what I’m thinking will inevitably be, “These kids barely meet par.  Do they have any other special talents that will raise their overall value?’

These odd little conversations started happened right around the time I shaved, leading me to the obvious conclusion: when I’m clean shaven, I look approachable.  Me! Approachable!?  It’s infuriating.  I’m supposed to be a man with a dark sense of terrible brooding about him as if followed by storms of iniquity.  Ten days have passed since I stopped shaving and not a single stranger has announced their lunch plans to me or showed me their grandkids.

Ah yes, that’s much better — hidden from potential friends by the fullness of my beard.

Posted in Humor.

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