I have not fallen off the face of the earth! I am alive. I am in dire need of a shave: looking like a mensch 24/7 is exPENsive. If I had to shave more than once a week, I'd be spending a lot more on facial grooming products. I happen to have ended up with a Gillette Fusion "Power." It was on sale, I had a coupon, bada-bing. Easy peasy. The exPENsive part is the replacement razors. Oh my god, it's ridiculous. I empathize with women now more than I ever have before; for men, shaving is optional: societal norms mandate that women shave both legs and pits. And although I'd be lying if I said I didn't like smooth, hairless legs, I can understand why you'd just fuck it ad let everything grow out a bit. So, a thank you to all the ladies that put up with all of society's bullshit to make men (and, in more then a few cases, I'm guessing, yourselves, too) happy. 
For what it's worth, I'd shave if I was asked to.
Also, so I seem like less of an asshole (or more of a sweetheart, depending on your perspective) I was moved to compose a poem about a dad who just realized that his little girl is growing up. Way too fast.
Girls Being Girls
I have seen you.
I have seen you, seducing the mirror.
I have seen you puckering up to your reflection,
clumsily leaning into it to imagine a kiss.
Your virgin lips, untouched by the lips of another, tingle
against the cool, reflective glass.
Your eyes are open, providing an image just as uncomfortable to see
as the tingle on your lips.
You need the warmth.
Warm clings to warm, life to life.
Everything ends with you.
I know this is what I signed up for.
How juvenile of me not to expect it.
You will be playing a game tomorrow.
You will be playing a game
involving a bottle encircled by young women and men,
giddily glowing like the shallow sacs of hormones they all are.
There will be a closet, and chance will send couple after couple inside to experience seven minutes
of what your peers will call "Heaven."
This was a setting, for me, where "boys will be boys."
But
I never expected having to be concerned about
girls being girls.
Thanks for reading. Once more, with feeling: I think! I exist!
For what it's worth, I'd shave if I was asked to.
Also, so I seem like less of an asshole (or more of a sweetheart, depending on your perspective) I was moved to compose a poem about a dad who just realized that his little girl is growing up. Way too fast.
Girls Being Girls
I have seen you.
I have seen you, seducing the mirror.
I have seen you puckering up to your reflection,
clumsily leaning into it to imagine a kiss.
Your virgin lips, untouched by the lips of another, tingle
against the cool, reflective glass.
Your eyes are open, providing an image just as uncomfortable to see
as the tingle on your lips.
You need the warmth.
Warm clings to warm, life to life.
Everything ends with you.
I know this is what I signed up for.
How juvenile of me not to expect it.
You will be playing a game tomorrow.
You will be playing a game
involving a bottle encircled by young women and men,
giddily glowing like the shallow sacs of hormones they all are.
There will be a closet, and chance will send couple after couple inside to experience seven minutes
of what your peers will call "Heaven."
This was a setting, for me, where "boys will be boys."
But
I never expected having to be concerned about
girls being girls.
Thanks for reading. Once more, with feeling: I think! I exist!
merlowe:
Thank you for posting 