“Is that a gray hair?”
Just like that I was 10 years older than I was the night before.
Some guys apparently experience some sort of crisis with the onset of gray hair. I felt no different than the night before. Everyone else seems to know something I don’t!
“Oh, no! You can’t be getting gray hair already! You’re not even thirty years old!”
I mean, I guess I would understand if I was 16 years old and had a full head of gray hair, but I was in my twenties when I got my first gray. That’s not much of a stretch, is it?
I actually like the look of sporadic gray hair, here and there.
The best is when someone who doesn’t know me asks my age.
“Oh, I thought you were older – I mean, sorry!”
I really don’t care!
Now, I must clarify.
I will eventually dye my hair. I allow my wife to occasionally pluck the grays from my head. Why?
Because they bother my wife, and I love my wife. I don’t mind them, but if they bother her, I also don’t mind getting rid of them or covering them up. There is absolutely no point in fighting over the color of hair. Same goes with my beard. I’d love to grow a giant biker-beard. Wife doesn’t like it, it’s not gonna lower my quality of life, I don’t do it!
The larger message here is that life is much larger than the occasional gray hair (or full head of gray hair, at that), facial hair, sports car, man-cave (though I happen to be blessed with a pretty awesome man-cave), or any other thing associated with male mid-life crises.
To be honest, from where I stand, a mid-life crisis is about the least manly thing a man can go through. Stop whining and get back to real life. Cut it out.
Besides, all the most bad-ass revered men had some gnarly gray hair.