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Let me start this off by saying, the man bun is a “hot” look. I don’t care if you’re so straight that reading the last sentence made you drop your ax mid-tree chop, you’d look pretty dumb denying how good some guys look with that bun. As a straight male myself, I’m envious. Anytime I see a tall, strapping man with a neatly tied bun and a tightly shaved beard I think, “That guy is crushing life.” It’s one look that says jobless and successful all at once, and women love that. He can say, “Honey, let’s just go to Thailand” on a Wednesday because if nobody is telling him to cut his hair, then nobody is telling him what day of the week it is.
I look at man bun guys and know that we live in two different worlds. He’s taking some strands of hair and tucking them behind his ear as he’s thinking of poetry and fields covered in a summer’s dew and I’m scratching the top of my head like an ape wondering who just farted. He’s tying up that glorious hair before a morning hike while I’m asking the guy at Starbucks why the WiFi isn’t working. He’s taking off t-shirts the cool way (grabbing from the back of the collar) while I’m stretching my t-shirt out as I put it on so that things don’t get too real. We live as the same gender, but really we are a part of two different phylums. His is growing, mine is shrinking. And frankly, that’s ruining this country.
“Don’t be insane,” you’re thinking as you read this column on a phone made in China while sitting on a toilet made in Afghanistan. I know it’s a bit crazy to blame the fall of a great nation on a hair style. I mean the guys who started this whole man bun trend were Mel Gibson and Heath Ledger, and they were kicking British ass. Those original man bun guys aren’t bad. They were probably mid-bone with some Pocahontas looking girl, had some hair in their face and thought, “Get this crap out of my eye!” as they reached up for a tree branch and tied that shit up. Mel and Heath are originals. Their man bun was forged out of necessity. You can’t have hair in your eyes as you shove a bayonet into a Red Coat’s heart. You need to see the expression on their face when you whisper, “Today, we celebrate our independence day, motherfucker.”
In almost every situation, a problem isn’t the originator, it’s the imitators. Bluetooth headsets were a hands-free option that made total sense until the guy at the car dealership started wearing them while he wasn’t on the phone. It’s not the guy who puts up that first bun, it’s the guy who sees the hot chick posting a Buzzfeed list of dudes with buns and spends the next year with a bun as his goal. The vagina has mystical, mind bending powers over the male proclivities. Think about skinny jeans, vegan food, writing about love for Elite Daily. Those all started with one dude who got laid and then a million different imitators came along, douched it up, and wasted a country’s time. Cure cancer? Nope, Trevor has to fix his hair bumps created by his pony tail. Start a business? Tucker needs to condition. Invent a blow job robot? Sorry, Smithson has an hour of brushing he has to do each night. Defend this country from China? Rory is debating bangs.
Since the dawn of time, male fashion decisions have been based off getting them laid. A caveman once tripped over a rock, and he heard a girl say “Eww” about his taint and now we are all sitting here in this underwear hell. There was an April Fools Day prank about clip-on man buns and I believed it because if vagina was one clip-on away we’d all be shopping for bobby pins. The more we encourage this look, the more we encourage the imitators spending their days trying to create an image of manliness that is built on months of un-manly moments. The longer we push the man bun dudes to the front of the alpha class, the more that door stays open for “men” that complain about gluten allergies in public. If the man-bun rules the pussy, then a larger group of pussies will be leading this nation.
Please, women of these United States of America, stop having sex with man bun guys. Resist the temptation. Understand that for every guy who puts his hair in a bun out of necessity, there are six more who saw it in a magazine while getting a mani-pedi. Go for the clean cut guy your grandfather would have fought a war with. Go for the guy wondering about farts. Go for the guy taking off his t-shirt like a fat, dumb animal. Go for a man bun guy, and you’ll create a country of men tucking hair behind their ears instead of pulling yours..