Requesting Permission to ‘Stache… Permission Granted

Beards are a wily breed. Some men can pull them off. Some men can’t. The important thing is that every man gives it a shot. But you can’t just cease shaving for only two weeks at age 20, realize you were gifted with only three growable hairs (like that strangely reddish one under your nose), and then quit for life, defeated. You have to experiment at least once a year. You never know how many of their beardy buddies will turn up. Heck, by age 28 you could have a patch over yonder (I’m pointing to my right cheek. That’s always fertile ground for a multi-colored mess.)

So, when is the prime time to go a-beardin’? Why the middle of summer, of course! That’s when my softball team embarks on a yearly tradition. The Porn-stache Night. Don’t know what a porn-stache is? It’s like a Fu Manchu, but it’s attached to the face.

Mr. Fu Manchu

It’s called a porn-stache because the style is synonymous with the look of 70s porn stars. (I didn’t make up the name, Mom. It’s been around for awhile.)

Captain Porn-stache

Every year our softball team picks a game to deem our “Porn-stache Night” and we all grow out our beards, then shave in the form of the porn-stache before the game. Of course, there are those that can’t physically grow a beard, much less a ‘stache. They have been known to make do with the few follicles they can muster, or buy a fake ‘stache at the local costume shop. Either way it’s quite enjoyable. By which I mean, pathetic.

You can always tell when the big ‘stache night is upon us, mainly because the wives are complaining. Today I was lectured for having a wonky line of division between my neck and my beard. I tried to tell her, “Sweetheart, it’s a means to an end. It’s not about the beard. Just as in life, it’s what’s underneath that counts. And what’s underneath is a big, glorious ‘stache-tastical work of art just waiting to burst free!” My God. I’ve never realized it before. Porn-stache Night is a metaphor for life.

As I sit here, I am under 20 hours away from the big event. It’s Porn-stache Eve and I can barely sleep! Will my ‘stache be joined by a pair of mutton chops when I shave for the big game? Only time will tell. The important thing is I shave the whole thing immediately after the game. For my own safety, that is. I just don’t like the way the dog’s been looking at me. I think he thinks I’m a hobo, just passing through.

This post is reminiscent of the very first column I wrote for IN Michiana Magazine. If you can’t get enough about beards, click here.