I’ve never been able to pull off the bearded look. I just look goofy… and old… and crazy. I once misplaced my razor for seven months. People tended to avoid me. On the plus side, I got a few Santa gigs at kids’ Xmas parties.

There have been thousands, perhaps millions, of men throughout history who looked good in a beard. I am not one of them. Over the years, I’ve tried growing a beard several times, but after a few weeks, I always gave up. Because I didn’t like the way it looked on me – not to mention how it felt. Having all those scratchy whiskers on my face drove me crazy.

There are several reasons my face and a beard can’t peacefully co-exist. When I experimented with my very first beard, during my freshman year of college, it came in shockingly salt and peppery, with a freakish amount of white, grey, and even red whiskers. I had not yet had my first college date and already my beard looked like that of a senior citizen. Not a hopeful beginning to my journey into the world of college dating.

I also quickly realized I had developed a nervous tick in that I was constantly, compulsively checking my beard for food remnants any time I ate even so much as a cookie. I’d find myself stroking the whiskers around my mouth fifty times a day, half expecting to discover a piece of fried chicken or a gummy bear mysteriously embedded into my beard. It drove me bonkers.

The few times I’ve stuck with a beard longer than two weeks, the results were always discouraging, Staring back at me in the mirror was what appeared to be a homeless man. Whenever I approached a stranger, say, to ask for directions, I always had this uncomfortable sense they were trying to avoid eye contact, no doubt so they wouldn’t have to give me their spare change.

There was a time during our marriage when I tried to grow a beard again, but my wife was not thrilled about my new look. I remember her complaining after three weeks, “When are you going to get rid of that obnoxious beard…and take a shower… and mow the lawn… and get a better-paying job?”

Many great men in history had iconic beards, like Socrates, Shakespeare, Lincoln, Hemingway, and Captain Jack Sparrow. Their beards gave them all a sense of gravitas and dignity. Oh, wait, I’m told that one of these was not a real person. Not sure which. I’m going with Shakespeare.

Here is some beard trivia you probably did not know. I’m actually a distant descendant of a man who played a prominent role in the evolution of facial hair: Ambrose Burnside. Burnside, in addition to being an incompetent Union Civil War general – and my Great-Great-Great Uncle on my father’s side (true) – had a highly unusual way of displaying his hair down the side of his face (see the following image). This style of facial hair, which he made famous, was originally named ‘burnsides’ but at some point the word was reversed to become the ‘sideburns’ we know today.  Now compare how I’d appear with the same look. Who wore it better? Be honest with me.

Left: A distant ancestor of mine (true), the Civil War Union general Ambrose Burnside. Right: Me wearing the same look as my 19th century ancestor. I think we can all agree neither of us could pull off this look. At least I had more hair than the general.

There was a brief period during graduate school when I again tried to grow a beard. I actually persevered with my effort for almost five months. The next photo is the only surviving photo of me sporting a beard during this time period.

This photo was taken when I was 24 years old, right after my sister Betsy had insanely convinced me to go skydiving with her. And I, in an effort to prove once and for all that I have no spine, agreed to her deranged scheme. I almost died when my parachute failed fully to open (not making that up). But that’s a nightmare for another time. If you’re curious what actually happened, just click here or on the photo to read the rest of the story.

It was during this time when I started dating a nice woman named Becky, She had never seen me without a beard. Then about a month into our brief, star-crossed courtship, I decided – without consulting her – to shave it off. Upon seeing me show up at her doorstep totally clean-shaven for the first time, she became the only person in my life ever to utter the following sentence: “Oh my! I just can’t imagine you without a beard.” And then she broke up with me to return to her ex-boyfriend.

I know what you’re thinking: “But Tim, why not do the close-cropped beard?” You mean the Don Johnson look that he made popular in Miami Vice? I know many men – and just about all the male Hollywood celebrities – who don this masculine look. It looks good on them. But the few times I’ve tried the five-day stubble, it just looks like someone getting over a serous bender – which is even more depressing because, as a non-drinker, I don’t even have the fun of getting drunk in the first place.

No one has ever uttered the phrase, “Tim, you should grow a beard.” Actually, that’s not true. I remember this one time one of my racquetball buddies suggested it, but that was just so it would “hide your ugly face.”

You might also be curious about how I’d look with just a mustache instead. Turns out I can’t pull off that look either. I only tried a mustache one time. This is the ONLY PHOTO EVER TAKEN of me with a mustache. It made me look like a character in a 1980’s porn film – not that I would know anything about that, mind you.

With no disrespect intended to my LGBTQ+ friends, a mustache just makes me look extremely gay. It’s just that, as a heterosexual, it is not a look I’ve ever aspired to perfect. Also, my girlfriend at the time hated it. However, several attractive men did ask me for my phone number, so there’s that, I guess.

My point is, don’t expect to see me show up at the pickleball court sporting a beard or a mustache. As I have reflected back on my life, there are several things I’ve long ago accepted I will never master. I’ll never master playing the piano. I’ll never become fluent in a foreign language. I’ll never understand how cryptocurrency works or how to cure my slice in golf. And I’ll never figure out how to pull off a beard. I’ll leave that challenge to George Clooney.

That’s the view from the bleachers. Perhaps I’m off base.

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