GOLIKEHELLMACHINE

Long Hair

With the benefit of hindsight, I really never should have grown my hair long. Not the first time I did it, nor the second, nor the third. 

In the late 90s, I took off from where I lived and moved to Gainesville, Florida. When I tell people this, they always ask me, “Oh, did you go to college there?”, to which, I usually respond with some variation of “No, but I’d have been better off if I had”, which is true. Instead, I hung out in bars and played in bands. But, relevant to this edition of Hindsight, I grew my hair out pretty long, and, as was the fashion of the time (late-90s crust punks), let it get very ratty.

Once, a woman in the bar asked me if I was wearing a wig. Truth be told, this happened more than once. I was moderately offended by it at the time, but, looking back on this picture of myself on Halloween, dressed as Robert Smith (my friend on the left is dressed as Morrissey, a costume I suspect he wouldn’t choose now), I can’t really blame her. Can you?

A picture of two young men in a bar. One's wearing a white button-down unbuttoned to his navel and blue jeans, with Morrissey's head superimposed over his own. The other is dressed in a blue blazer, untucked white button down, with a large mop of black hair and very red, messy lipstick.

This wasn’t the last time I stupidly grew my hair out. Later, in the 00s, I played in a punk band called The Engine Hearts. Did punks have long hair in the 00s? No, not usually. Did I? Yes. I was stupid. They even put my stupid hair in the newspaper. Please don’t put your stupid hair in the newspaper.

I play drums, and when you have long hair, you think you’re going to look super cool throwing it back while smashing your drums with your sticks, and maybe that’s true if you’re, like, Stefanie Mannaerts. I am not Stefanie Mannaerts.

A picture of four people in a newspaper, arranged side by side. Each looks like a musician. The one on the right has very dumb, shoulder-length reddish hair. It looks greasy.

Did I learn my lesson from this embarrassment? No, I did not, but at least I had an excuse. In 2020, it would have been obviously stupid to have gone for a haircut, even if I could find someone to give me one, which I did not attempt to do. As a result, I ended up with long hair. Again. This time, it came with a wrinkle — or, if you prefer, a curl. After a lifetime of having very straight hair, growing my hair long this time resulted in my hair becoming wavy, something I had never, up to that point in my life, had to wrestle with, and something that I’m now still bad at trying to tame.

Look at this ridiculous nonsense. I look like I’m promoting a self-help book for goths on how to go to the beach. Discount store Staring at the Sea cover.

A white man standing on a beach in front of the sea, wearing a black and white striped shirt, black blazer, black sweater, black jeans and black boots. He has sunglasses on and messy, long-ish, wavy blonde hair.

Alas, I’m now getting to the age where my hair is retreating from the places I would prefer that it live and setting up shop in places where I’d prefer it didn’t. As my ears grow longer, so do the fine little hairs sprouting out of the sides of them, no matter how often I hit them with the beard trimmer. If not for my diligence, I’d already have owlbrows. Occasionally, I think, “Hmm, should I grow my hair out one more time? Probably won’t get another chance to do it without looking desperate”. Then, I look at some of these pictures and think that, with hindsight, I really never should have grown my hair long.

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