On becoming handsome

It seems that in the middle of midlife --well, beyond the middle-- I have turned handsome.

Since last summer, that adjective has been used to me and about me way more than it ever had been in all the many years previous, and then some. Even discounting the polite usages or transparently self-serving ones, it appears that something in my face is different from what it used to be.

I have never thought of myself as handsome. But apparently I am now.

Of course, I'm not to everyone's taste (who is?), --world-idol George Clooney, for example, does nada for me-- but there's a noticeable surge in the use of the word "handsome" from a segment of the population whose opinions I notice.

It's very odd. Nice, but disconcerting.

When this word has come my way in the last ten months or so, I have A. ignored it, B. simply said, "Thanks, that's kind of you" --which often elicits the response, "I'm not being kind", C. downplayed it by saying something about being ok for my age, or D. Raised my brow in sign of incredulity.

I am certainly aware of my facial shortcomings. I will spare you the boredom and me the embarassment of enumerating them. I have never welcomed being photographed, only endured it. (With one exception). But I have resigned myself ;-) to the fact that something has changed, so that now if someone calls me handsome, I kinda accept it. Lacking perfect symmetry, I would certainly deny that I am movie-star handsome, but I will entertain the notion that I am character-actor handsome. And I certainly am a character.

I was recently with a new friend, an honest man who has given some close attention to my face, and he repeated to me, "What a handsome man you are." I started to demur, but he said, "Look at me". I did. "Now look me in the eye and repeat after me, 'I am a handsome man.'" Well, I did. And he ended with, "I don't want to hear any more of that "maybe", "kinda", stuff. So I said, "Ok. You win. I'm handsome." (I kinda like it when he wins, but that's another story.)

What might have changed? Well, I grew out my goatee last August. This few square inches of whisker, added to my ancient moustache, certainly attracted the attention of a whole new cohort of men in my neighborhood. We are such simple creatures. Invisible one day, hot the next. And I guess my consistent working out of the last years has made a difference in how lean, angular and muscular I am. And, I am told, in how I carry myself. Or maybe the wrinkles have finally coordinated with my crooked smile. Who knows.

As the saying goes, ;-), "Handsome is as handsome does."


PS The image is generic. Doesn't look at all like me.