Before I started this trip, I made a resolution not to trim my beard until it was all over. I told myself that I wanted to grow a super cool heavy metal beard that I could braid and use for glorious headbanging sessions. I lasted a good 6 months before I caved in and shaved it all off.
Back in April I shaved my beard.
I had a lot of reasons for shaving. It was getting damn hot in Thailand; the beard required a surprising amount of upkeep; it lowered my average speed by about 10% (that's a joke); ladies kept telling me to shave my damn face, and one brazen vixen drunkenly declared that I had "pubes on my face." But the kicker was the guys. I would be approached by clean shaven men, who would applaud my beard-growing perseverance, but there was always a glimmer of something else in their eyes – mockery? Not quite, but more of a look that said "but WHY, dude?"
It was after a few of these incidents that I realized not only was the beard meaningless to me, it didn't even help to include me into a club of "bearded men" or anything like that. There was no societal benefit. In fact, by wearing such an extravagant facial tuft, I'd isolated myself from the beardless. I was telling ladies that I had no interest in forming relationships with them, and other guys that I didn't give a s**t what they thought or about interacting with them, and maybe I was even mocking their more socially acceptable appearances in a way. None of that was what I intended to do. So I shaved.
I wasn't prepared for the transmorgification that shaving would bring about. +10 to self-confidence reserves, a noticeable improvement in the number of women who checked me out, old ladies being kinder to me, firmer handshakes from men, etc etc...it was as if I had rejoined society and unburdened myself of some heavy philosophical weight all at the same time.
I'm not saying beards are bad. But this experience really hit home that more-so than what you do, it's why and how you do it that counts. Anyway, for the time being, I think I'll remain beardless.
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Back in April I shaved my beard.
I had a lot of reasons for shaving. It was getting damn hot in Thailand; the beard required a surprising amount of upkeep; it lowered my average speed by about 10% (that's a joke); ladies kept telling me to shave my damn face, and one brazen vixen drunkenly declared that I had "pubes on my face." But the kicker was the guys. I would be approached by clean shaven men, who would applaud my beard-growing perseverance, but there was always a glimmer of something else in their eyes – mockery? Not quite, but more of a look that said "but WHY, dude?"
It was after a few of these incidents that I realized not only was the beard meaningless to me, it didn't even help to include me into a club of "bearded men" or anything like that. There was no societal benefit. In fact, by wearing such an extravagant facial tuft, I'd isolated myself from the beardless. I was telling ladies that I had no interest in forming relationships with them, and other guys that I didn't give a s**t what they thought or about interacting with them, and maybe I was even mocking their more socially acceptable appearances in a way. None of that was what I intended to do. So I shaved.
I wasn't prepared for the transmorgification that shaving would bring about. +10 to self-confidence reserves, a noticeable improvement in the number of women who checked me out, old ladies being kinder to me, firmer handshakes from men, etc etc...it was as if I had rejoined society and unburdened myself of some heavy philosophical weight all at the same time.
I'm not saying beards are bad. But this experience really hit home that more-so than what you do, it's why and how you do it that counts. Anyway, for the time being, I think I'll remain beardless.
