Manhood

And here we are at this time of year again. Christmas is not without its charm, I mean, I'm no Scrooge. In fact, I'm as sentimental as all fuck.

I ran into a friend of mine ... I didn't run into her actually; we organised to have a pre-christmas drink.

This is my favourite thing about this time of year, it gives one the opportunity to reunite with those that we love, but just don't see often; in fact, this is the only time we (the editorial 'we' ) see them , and god bless yuletide for that.

We sat with a glass of wine, and chatted:

C: For the first time ever you look like a man.

I giggle. I thought she was teasing me about my crow's feet, and 'crow's feet' is beyond generous for the lines around my eyes, It's more like a raptor has been hunting on my face; point is, I thought I got her joke.

I'm not saying that I don't think I'm without my aesthetic charm (my mother blessed me with great skin), but I'm willing to take the odd you're-waning-c*nt, on the chin.

But it was my beard. This is what has bounced me into manhood: Facial hair.

I don't know how I feel about that. Aren't there other parts of me that suggest my maturity?

My writing maybe?

Maybe not.

I do understand. This is what makes the whole acting gig rather difficult at times. I'm in some kind of eternal puberty

Merry Christmas