I have had a beard almost continuously since 1986. There was a time in college when I accidentally jiggled my hand while trimming it, so I had to shave it off (the beard, not my hand). I kept the moustache, but it looked so ridiculous I got rid of that and immediately started growing it all again.

In the Summer of 1998 I went away to a dance camp and was also going to visit a friend that I have had this miserable unrequited thing for. She had said in passing once that she would never date a man with facial hair. So, what did dufus here do? That's right, I valiantly compromised my principals for the sake of love (or some reasonable facsimile thereof) and shaved it all off.

Of course, I instantly regretted it. The face that stared back at me from the mirror was that of a total stranger. It was pale and fleshy, and had the sort of vaguely surprised, deer-in-the-onrushing-headlights look that one normally associates with the formally living. My upper lip seemed to stetch on into infinity like some vast, endless coastal plain. It was broad enough and, were it not for the two grotesque speed bumps right beneath my nose, wide enough to land a single engine plane on. Looking into the sink at the pitiful remnants of my manhood, I was overcome with an cold, unrelenting despair. But I reminded myself that it was for a good cause--the best cause: true love (or a reasonable facsimile thereof). Besides, part of me felt as though I was hiding behind the hair. Now there was nothing between me and the rest of the world, not even Calvin Kline.

So firmed up my resolve and embarked on my Date With Destiny. Seven hours later, as a glorious, full Hunter's Moon rose over the Blue Ridge Mountains, I pulled into the parking lot of The Old Farmers Ball. Light and music spilled out of the hall in equal measure. Like the Moon, I felt radiant, and rife with potential. (Also, like the moon, my face felt huge and pale and round.)

I found my friend and we embraced. I greeted her warmly, all the while putting what I desparately hoped was my best face forward. However, it soon became apparent that she had not even noticed my new/old face. Outside, I heard a distinct "pop!", followed by a long, drawn out hissing sound-- almost a sigh-- as the Moon slowly deflated and draped itself over the Blue Ridge Mountains like an old, discarded "Get Well Soon" balloon.

The end

BeauD