The Man Bun.

Men; I’m a big fan, and I mean that sincerely. If I were to blog about each of the men in my life that I love and adore, I would have blog content for daaaays. Men are a big deal and I love them. I appreciate all the things they bring to the proverbial table that maybe get taken for granted from time to time. Thank you, men, for all the things you do that you haven’t been appreciated for lately. Bring it in for a ((GROUP HUG)). I love you, man.
I realize that what I’m about to say could potentially offend some of you, or even possibly start a riot, but keep in mind this is MY blog, and MY opinion, and at the end of the day – why do you care how I feel about man buns? You don’t! On the off chance you’re currently sporting a man bun, this might be a good time to back your buns on outta this conversation before I have the opportunity to hurt your feelings. ⬆ See what I did there? #Punny
I HATE the man bun. I’m sorry if this news breaks anyone’s heart, but these feelings of mine just need a voice. I can’t even wrap my mind around the fact that those two words: “Man” and “Bun” have merged together in the first place; and even worse, have become a staple in our current pop culture. Please make it stop! I need it to stop. When did this man bun situation become a ‘thing’ anyway, and can someone please spank whoever started this horrible trend? I will spank them myself if someone just tells me who I need to start with.*I love butts* It’s the worst! Gag me with a spoon! Ick! GO AWAY, and please take the “mom jeans” with you!!! 
There are, in my opinion, exactly two times when it’s acceptable to use “Man” and “Bun” in the same sentence: 1.) Anything related to a burger. “Man, that burger you grilled looks delicious, do you want me to grab you a bun from the kitchen?” 2.) “Hey man, you have really nice buns; get over here and let me squeeze, grab, pinch, or spank you because I just NEED TO.“ I need a handful of all of that – right. now. *I love butts, like, really love them, and it doesn’t matter who it’s attached to. If your butt is anywhere in the vicinity of my hands, it’s getting touched in some way; I just can’t contain it, and I’m not even sorry. Character flaw? I’ll take “absolutely not” for $500, Alex!*
That is it; those are the only two times it’s an acceptable merging of the two words. I could probably stop talking right here but I won’t because sometimes I just don’t know when to be quiet, and digging myself a deeper hole seems like a fun way to spend my day. You can send your hate mail to UnwadYourPanties@IDon’tCare.com if your feelings also need a voice.
I think it’s important to point out that I don’t like long hair on a man; I never have. That doesn’t mean I don’t LIKE the ACTUAL MAN himself, I just don’t love his long hair; period. I am, however, a huge lover of 80’s music – HUGE! If you were alive in the 80’s you know that there was this amazingness called “big hair bands” and other than my boyfriend, Lionel Richie, it’s probably my favorite music of all time. Do not even get me started on how much of an obsession I have with BHBs; because that is a trip in my brain that you would need to pack a large suitcase for, and you are not prepared for that right now. *Trust* I am the BHBs -ride or die- until I take my last breath; and I can only hope they appreciate my support over the last 30 years because I have been fiercely loyal, and I expect props from Jesus on that when I start “knock, knock, knockin on heaven’s door!” I have at least 1/3 of my iPod storage dedicated specifically to BHBs, and I am just all about them in every way; big hair, long hair, Aqua Net, all of it. Love, Love, Love!
I get that there are occasions when long hair on a man is sexy; I can’t think of any, but I’m sure there are some maybe one, or two. I have girlfriends who I love and cherish who think long hair on a man AND man buns, are just the bees-knees; sort of like winning the man lottery in some strange way. I respect their opinions and I don’t love them any less, I just don’t share the same taste or enthusiasm. I am of the -less is more- tribe when it comes to man hair. I love a goatee, or sometimes a little stubble if it’s groomed properly, but that’s about all I can handle. My husband grows a beard every winter despite my constant begging that he not, and trust me, I start pleading my case weeks before “No Shave November”, just to be sure my voice is heard. I make a solid effort to discourage excess hair on my man, but that is a battle I lose every year. I love him dearly, but I will never hop on his beard bandwagon; I’m just not equipped for that kind of nonsense. *Does anyone else stare at a man beard and automatically wonder what’s all stuck in there from lunch?  And for the love, STOP TWIRLING YOUR BEARD HAIR OR I’M HIRING AN ATTORNEY! I mean it!* Surely I’m not the only one who feels this way.
Last weekend, hubs and I were at a football game and got a text to meet up with some friends at this really cool little ‘hipster restaurant/bar’ afterward. We happily accepted the invitation, and it turned out to be a really cool place that we will likely visit again. They had all the trendy new beers, mixed drinks for days, and all these very attractive ‘model-y‘ young adult waiters/waitresses. They were all rockin’ their skinny jeans, and converse, and were probably just waiting tables as a side job until they hit it big in Hollywood someday. That was my plan too, minus the “model-y and Hollywood” part. I did waitress though so you can add that to my bio. ✅
As is generally the case when you go to a restaurant, once we sat down the waiter came over and asked us what we wanted to drink. This is not the first time I’ve had to order a drink from a human; I knew what I wanted, I was prepared. When I glanced up from my menu to use my words and order my drink, it was like I had an out of body experience of some kind, and suddenly, all the words just left my brains entirely. This is unfamiliar territory for me; I always have words. What in the world? Let me just say: this waiter was a hunk! No big deal; I’ve seen lots of hunks in my 39 years, but this particular one had really gorgeous long hair, and I was fascinated by him immediately. I don’t even want to know what my face was saying; I’m embarrassed just thinking about it. *facepalm* I didn’t have any words, but I’m sure my face was saying way more than I wanted it to. My face does that on a regular basis because it can’t keep a secret, and it needs to be unfriended as soon as we get home.
I was totally caught off guard. 1.) that this man had better hair than most women I know and 2.) that I found him attractive in the first place. I think it was fairly obvious that I was taken aback because I was basically just staring into his soul the entire time he was trying to do his job, and get my drink order. *I’m awkward sometimes* I couldn’t figure out why this look was suddenly working for me, but it was, and it needed to be discussed ASAP. For the love of all things holy, someone please just order my drink for me so I can avoid saying anything stupid right now. “Alexa, where is the closest duct tape?” SOS!
After he walked away with our order, I immediately blurted out –to my husband– and friends “OMG, that guy has better hair than I do, what’s that all about? I’m kinda jealous.” Followed by: “he’s actually really attractive and I am shocked that I am even saying that out loud.” Yes, I said that to my husband. I’m sure he agreed with me on the whole “shocked that I am even saying that out loud” part. *awwwk…ward* Hubs knows how I feel about him and also how I feel about long hair on a man, so I don’t think he took offense or felt threatened in any way; but still, not a shining wife moment, for sure.
*What is happening to me right now? Stop staring at ‘Hunky Long Haired Guy’ before you make this situation even more awkward. Here he comes with the drinks. Just be cool. Do NOT say a word. Get. It. Together!* Narrator: but she WILL say words, because “someone” has to fill all the awkward silence. This is not her job, but her inner self does not accept this truth. HLHG was a really nice guy and actually pretty funny. I said something inappropriate that could have been taken out of context, to which he immediately responded back with sarcasm *LOVE* and I was all like, I want to be friends with HLHG now. He’s cool, and I like him; we all liked him. We drank our drinks, had some food and chatted up our friends for quite a while – with actual words; this train is back on track.
I, at some point, got up to go to the bathroom and when I came back and sat down, I glanced over at the bar at the exact moment HLHG decided he was hot, and it was time to pull out his trusty companion; a scrunchie of sorts. I wanted to crawl under the table. Instead, I watched in complete horror as the ONE long-haired guy I have ever found attractive – in my entire life, put his hair up – IN. A. MAN. BUN! I died a little inside. I may have even let out an audible OMG, noooooooooooooo! as I sat there and watched the slow transformation of him going from HLHG to what eventually could be described as – exactly what I look like from behind when I’m rockin’ my skinny jeans and a bun. Ugh!!! HLHG, you have totally ruined the vibe for me now, and I am really upset about it. You were going to be my HLHG example until the end of time. Every time I told someone “I’ve only ever found one guy with long hair attractive in my entire life” it was going to be YOU. I’m without a person now. You can’t be my example anymore, because we oddly look like sisters when you wear your MAN BUN and SKINNY JEANS! I already have a sister, HLHG; do not come for me!
I was all in too. All. In. I’m very disappointed. You were my ‘long-haired man person’ for a couple of hours, and I am disgruntled over this sudden change of plans. As much as I hate to do it, I have to break up with you in my head already. I know it’s only been two hours, and you didn’t even know how bonded we were, or how much I knew about you by staring deeply into your soul…..but it’s OVER. All I see when I look at you now is how much we look alike from the back, and as much as I enjoy you, I just can’t hang. I don’t want to look like your ‘skinny jeans, bun twin’ for one more minute. No can do. We had a good ride, but I knew in my heart it was too good to be true. Please bring us our bill. I need to get home so I can apologize to my husband, and unfriend my face. This is not the ideal way to end the night and I am feeling the loss of our friendship already.
(((GROUP HUG))) 
T.