Sometimes I get overly concerned with trends-ones I hate in particular-I sit there contemplating; what if that trend floods the mainstream culture? Eventually taking over the whole planet? For example, what if those high-waisted shorts that exist to advertise butt cheeks fail to be disregarded due to a revival of self-respect? What about the I-want-to-be-different-like-everyone-else so I’ll shave half my hair off? At this point it’s overdone and it looks good on very few. Or those flats, the ones designed for comfort and nothing else, what if everyone in the world eventually buys those shoes and then we’re all walking around with elf feet?! The reason I love Christmas has nothing to do with elves. I do not want elf shoes even though my feet are petite.
Thoughts like these sound like sleep deprived 3AM mental rants but they’re not. This happens to me midday, when I’ve had enough rest usually while I’m driving. It’s best if I just stop for a cup of coffee and listen to Dorothy or ZZ Ward and remind myself no dreadful trend will ever infect the entire human race. They’re just fads, gone faster than the wind, this too shall pass (not a bible scripture in case you were wondering) and everything will be okay.
As I sit there in the coffee shop, trying to mellow out thinking; maybe all the girls who wear yoga pants just to show off their derrière and never do yoga will start after realizing the brutal truth that a little bit of yoga is much needed. Isn’t it best to leave some mystery anyway? Modesty will is always be sexiest. The wearers and reasons of yoga pants will improve, I tell myself as I stare out the window into the afternoon drizzle. White Collar Whisky is playing through my headphones when I notice him. Actually, I notice him noticing me. Immediately I wonder how long he’s been watching me watch the rain, perched in this chair like a little bird. Nerves make me set my cinnamon cappuccino down and crisscross my legs, then I realize I’ve been starring at this guy the whole time I’ve been nervously adjusting myself and now I feel more self-conscious. He’s smiling, both hands around his coffee cup, I notice something else too, his eyes are blue, bright blue-really bright because there’s a few tables between us and that cobalt stare has a shine all its own. I’m smiling now too. He turns his head and laughs a little, to himself, it would go unnoticed by anyone not paying stalker close attention like I am. When the mystery man in the coffee shop did the slight head turn-I noticed something else-his dark, dark hair is tied back in a bun. A bun. As in what I wear when it’s just too hot or I want to show off my cross tattoo. I fight the urge to scream or run, then it gets worse because he gets up and the manbun is approaching, I swear as that almost ponytail gets close, the soft jazz emitting from my earbuds has been replaced by the JAWS theme song.
Manbuns….ugh I just don’t get them. I think the word sounds kind of like an oxymoron, what self-respecting man would wear a bun? However, just because I find muscles and masculinity attractive does not mean that’s the case for the entire planet. It’s easy to forget that just because we’re the protagonist of our story does not mean we’re the main character the world is reading about. So I asked around, do you like manbuns? Yay or nay? Explain.
Quite a few were in favor, saying that guys who wear a bun are usually laid back and fun to be around, others just said they were awesome…hockey is awesome, that doesn’t mean I want to carry a stick with me everywhere but I get it, I’m just too sarcastic to not make a comment. That’s usually what trends are they’re just about the look and either you like it or you don’t. Either you can pull it off or you can’t. (The secret to pulling anything off is first believing that you can.) Taking a random poll wasn’t enough for me to be at peace with this, so let’s examine some photo evidence;
This reminds me, the topknot is the real issue here nothing good comes from it. The undercut is repulsive. Just stop. Please. I said please.
Long hair don’t care, the few men out there that truly do rock the long locks:
I like men and I like buns, I just don’t like them together, at least not the ones on top of the head.