I don’t live in a place where it gets very cold, but I imagine this is the time of year when a lot of people across the country begin to feel a sense of anxious despair brought on by the changing of the seasons. While I cannot empathize with the feeling as driven by temperature, I dread what I imagine to be a similarly weighted state of mourning. December is coming, and with it, the elimination of a thing of beauty barely given the chance to thrive.
Many men partake in the annual Movember campaign in an effort to spread awareness about men’s health issues. The cause? Worthy. The fact that it is confined to just one month? A travesty. Not only because I vehemently support any and all philanthropic efforts tied to it, but in large part because, honestly, mustaches are sexy as hell.
For some reason, mustaches just do it for me. I can’t pinpoint exactly why, but my money’s on those reruns of Magnum P.I. my mother let me watch with her as a child. Tom Selleck’s beautiful lip cozy on my screen juxtaposed so smoothly with his characterization as a complete badass in my mind. In hindsight, The Selleck was likely the gateway ‘stache that opened my mind to the idea. Maybe things wouldn’t be this way had I watched more Barney like I had wanted. Then again, I don’t even want to know what my sexual preferences would be now had I gotten my way then.
Fast forward to freshman year of high school: my first kiss. Not only was he two years older than me, but he had a second-string slot on the football team, a learner’s permit, and yes, a mustache. To no one’s surprise, a year later, he got suspended for smuggling airplane liquor bottles on our high school Chamber Singers retreat. If that doesn’t spell bad boy to you, you’re on the wrong website.
The allure of the mustache guy is all about confidence. The clean-shaven dude you see in the lacrosse pinnie pounding pitchers of Bud Light is just another face in the crowd. Fun to observe, but first impressions say the likelihood we won’t get along is quite high. Add a mustache, however, and he is someone I am far more likely to approach.
A mustache in a social setting is an advertisement for the personality that comes with it. Even if he doesn’t actually contain an ounce of charisma, I won’t make that call until much further into the conversation. A good mustache on a good face says “I know I look better without it, but I can still get laid with it.” Why that’s appealing, I’ll never know, but I don’t see it changing anytime soon.
I react to mustaches the same way I imagine men react to cleavage or hard nipples: it doesn’t matter if it’s good-looking, ugly, old, young, pathetic, or impressive. If you have a mustache, you will get a couple seconds of my attention. I’m not proud of it, but what can I say? I’m a visual creature. And I cannot be alone in thinking like this.
So, guys, if you’re looking for an edge in the winter months, look no further. It looks great with flannel; you can think of it as gray sweatpants you can wear to work. Maybe even go wild and start sending us pictures of your lip hair instead of your dicks. I’m just throwing out ideas, trying to make the world a better place. But even if you don’t grow one, or decide to break my heart and shave it off, maybe still read up on the organization behind it. Because in my opinion, the only thing sexier than a mustache is compassion and caring for humanity. .
Image via YouTube