Comeback of the Mustache I Don't Think So

There is a nasty rumor about the return of 1970s mustache-wearing male finding its way to the 21 century. Is this a setback for the metrosexual era? Is this a way for the "regular guy" to regain his masculinity? Is this a way to cook stuck to a man's face acceptable?

As a single woman, I am strongly against this terrible trend.

I'm not going to throw around careless accusations against facial hair. That just would not be right. Rather, my approach is fair and balanced. You know, the reporting style made famous by Fox News.

For starters, his mustache reminds me of 1970s porn. As a child I was not always able to recognize the vital parts of the body through the scrambled Playboy Channel, but I could always tell if the man was wearing a mustache. Not a sexy scene, my friends.

Sticking with the 1970s theme, my father played a beard then, and I would not date a man who resembles him. It is the Father Complex theory too far.

Most importantly, I have very sensitive skin. In fact so sensitive that I once went out on a date with a man who had facial hair and after three hours of lip smacking, my skin became so irritated that I developed a rash. Of course you can make the argument that the rash was due to marathon-long make-out session, no mustache, in itself, but it's no time to be logical. Let us stay focused in this post, where it belongs, on the ill return the mustache.

I'm not prejudiced, I am against all mustache.

Pencil mustache? No way. It reminds me of John Waters.

The toothbrush? Um, no. Charlie Chaplin wore that for one reason: it's funny appearance.

Horseshoe-style mustache? Nice try. Hulk Hogan can get away with it because wrestlers are cartoon-like.

Magnum, P. I. mustache? Oh, now you're playing dirty (I like it), but chances are you do not look like Tom Selleck. Psssssst. If you share his rugged good looks, email me your digits.

Guys, take it from me. I will not steer you wrong. There is a reason for mustache trend died a slow death. Here's a tip: Men are not supposed to be walking buffets, able to choose from a selection of late-night snacks are trapped in their hippielips.