Fun Fact: The last time I shaved with a razor was Tuesday, August 21, 2007.
I’ve received quite a wide range of reactions since starting this facial hair experiment a little over 11 weeks ago. The most common of these are listed below (in descending order of frequency):
- Comparisons to a terrorist. In addition to being the most common, this is also the most annoying. Brown man with a beard? OMG, TERRORIST! Seriously? The worst part is, the most common offenders are my brown friends.
- Comparisons to a high-up at my office, the only other person on our floor (probably 150 people) to have facial hair. A funny observation, no doubt, but not a flattering one. He’s older and more esteemed and slightly resembles Al Borland, and I…. well I am none of those things.
- Assorted comments of praise, such as “you look distinguished,” “you look manly,” “it’s a good look on you”, or “you look better than before” (huh?). Definitely flattering, but sometimes I get the feeling that these people are just trying to be nice.
- Assorted comments of criticism, such as “Dude, you need to shave.” This should maybe be ranked higher on this list. Whatever, go fuck yourselves. Haters.
- Praise for having facial hair that ‘connects’ – that is, the hair on the sides, bottom, and front of my face all come together as one. Surprisingly, many guys struggle with this. (Side note: Many girls don’t!)
I’ve also received some unique one-off reactions from certain people.
- One night at a bar, Sachin told me that another girl had mentioned to him earlier that she had a thing for beards. I thought he was just messing with me, but when I later talked to her, it turned out that, yes, she did in fact currently have a thing for men with beards. As we talked, she sat there rubbing the sides of my face, an experience I will describe as not unpleasant. Sadly, this story does not have a happy ending (unless you define happy ending as leaving the conversation to say hi to some friends, never returning to it, later hitting on a girl with a boyfriend, and going home alone).
- A manager at work said I looked like an “Indian George Michael.”
(He did add “The ‘Faith’ George Michael, not the ‘public restroom’ George Michael.” I still don’t know if that makes it any better.)
But nothing, and I mean nothing, compares to the conversation with a complete stranger I had yesterday, initiated indirectly as a result of having a beard.
I had stopped by Taco Bell on my way home from work (honestly, I don’t even try to make stories like this happen… they just do), and while waiting for my food to be made, an employee from the Dunkin Donuts half of the store came over.
“Are you Pakistani?”
“No. I’m Indian. Well, my parents are from India… I was born here.”
“Oh… you look like Inzamam-ul-Haq. Like you are his brother.”
“Huh?”
“You know who that is?”
“No, I have no idea.”
“Hey, he looks like Inzamam-ul-Haq, no?”
[guy making my food turns around, gives creepily intense grin of agreement]
“He’s an ex-captain of the Pakistani cricket team.”
“Oh…haha…”
“Yeah, you look just like him.”
[After a few seconds of silence, he can't get over it and brings it up again]
“You should look him up on Google when you get home.”
“How do you spell his last name?”
“H-A-Q.”
“And his first name?”
“Inzamum” [indiscernible, not spelled]
“Uh… got it. I’ll look it up.”
“You really look just like him!”
Wow. Just… Wow.
