What's Up With Bucky?

He shaved off his beard.

Not all the way off, but just trimmed it severely. As I sat there in Starbucks yesterday, I had feelings of, 'well, so much for that diversion.' It wasn't until later that I realized what was going on.

C'mon! What's in a beard?

You may well ask. As I've stated oft before, I'm not, in general, attracted to boys. But Bucky's beard made him a man in my eyes. (Although I guess it was a different part of my anatomy in play here.) A beard is something that sets a man apart. An old acquaintance of mine once mused that he couldn't fall in love with a woman, because kissing her, he'd miss the stubble.

I want Bucky's beard back. And I mean to have it.

Next time I see the Buck-ster, that will be the card I play. I've been thinking that a Good Next Step would be to pay him a complement based on some feature of his body ("You've got such a great mouth," or, "I love your hands, Bucky." In doing so, I reasoned, I would deliver the message in a subtle and (hopefully) non-threatening way that my interest in him was not just in conversation, but that I liked his body, too, his physical sense. It's a ploy as old, at least, as the sonnet.

Fuhgeddabout his eyes and hands. My opener will be, "Bucky! You shaved your beard! I love your beard! Why'd you go and shave it? Grow it back!"

And perhaps, a discussion of men, manhood, and beards will ensue.

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