I'm not one of those guys that can complain about being prematurely gray -- the guys that, on their 25th birthdays, wake up to a silver sheen and a stunned sort of look on their faces can complain. I'm not one of those unfortunate men, but lately, my wife has been commenting more and more at the amount of gray that has found itself on my head.
I had a good run. I'm going to be 36 next month, so a bit of gray seems appropriate, but at the same time, still feels a little early. Men with gray hair shouldn't be obsessing about video games and zombie movies. No, we should be retiring to our dens to reflect on the works of Dickens, pulling leisurely on our pipes, and occasionally discussing which actress in “the pictures“ currently has the best gams. Or, at least, that's how I imagined adult life would be once I became a mature man. Little did I know I'd be the same dorky guy, only a little bit older.
Have you seen the “Just For Men“ commercials? They seem to be on a lot these days, or maybe I'm just more sensitive to them, now that I'm exactly the demographic they're trying to win over. They're actually kind of amusing. I'll recount the action, in case you missed them:
Sad sack guy is at a bar that hasn't been renovated since 1974, his hair conspicuously gray. No, really, this otherwise handsome guy looks like a grandpa... a GRANDPA! Geez, all the hot chicks are avoiding him because they're worried he'll try to ply them with Werther's Originals and then offer to take them back to his pad to show them his etchings.
If only he could cover up that gray! Wait... thanks to the miracles of modern science, he can! With just a simple application of a dye that looks a bit like the stuff that Spiderman's new black costume is made out of, he can be a swinging, hep cat again!
Cut back to the 1974 bar... my goodness... sad sack is now a happy playboy on the prowl! The hot girls are hanging all over him, he gave all of his Werther's Originals to the bartender, and life is good again! Thank goodness he got that gray hair taken care of and isn't a horrible troll any longer, despite the fact that like his favorite bar, his style hasn't changed much since he shared that apartment with Chrissy and Janet.
So, even though there is a product for men like me, men who want to go to 70s themed bars and pick up women who wear too much makeup, I think I'm going to forgo “coloring“ my hair. It seems like too much work and also seems like too much... I don't know... vanity? Effort? I'll look at my gray hair like I look at my scars, proof that I was here and didn't just spend my time sitting around looking pretty (clarification: looking pretty strange). I lived with as little fuss as I could, and damnit, I drew the line at hair gel.
So, when Denver Mom has an affair with our pool boy (once we get a pool), because I look too much like an old man, I'll reconsider. However, until that time, I remain gray and getting more gray every day. I don't know if I'll wear it with pride, but I'll wear it with genuineness. I'll wear my gray because I am, after all, gray, not old.
The question that's been bothering me since this realization: Is it just coincidence that Denver Mom and I are trying to learn how to play Bocce? Bocce?!? Maybe I am old.