I always wanted to grow a mustache. Fearsome pimp whiskers. To me, the mustache is to masculinity what long, flowing tresses are to femininity. Aphrodite’s long hair was the source of her sexual authority, which she’d comb while sitting inside her pet oyster “Chester.” Aries, God of the pointy phallus and the shield, wore a ‘stache no doubt soaked in the blood of a minotaur. This ideal was implanted in me at a young age. Growing up, there were three men who defined manliness. To a little kid, being manly was being a hero. Not that a woman or a girl couldn’t be a hero, but it was more likely that I grew up to be a man who helped those in need than a woman who would help those in need. Keep reading »
