Random Long Eyebrow Hairs

Occasionally, I'll be in the middle of a conversation with someone when I notice a single wild eyebrow hair growing from their face. Just a weird random hair standing high above the others, as if it's looking for attention. Sometimes the hair is alone maybe a quarter inch away from the edge of the eyebrow hairline. Other times, it's mixed in with all the other eyebrow hairs, except it might be a full inch longer than the rest.

I wonder if that single hair thinks it's better than the others. Maybe it knows the answer to a particularly difficult eyebrow related question, so it's standing extra tall yelling "Ooh! Ooh!" The stupid hair doesn't realize that all the others are silently mocking it because it looks so out of place and silly.

But that's not the first thing I wonder. The first thing that comes to mind is the mental state of the person walking around with such an odd eyebrow anomaly. In nearly every case, it's a man. Women seem to pay attention to their faces before leaving the house, eyebrows in particular. Even ugly women tend to have somewhat tidy eyebrows. But dudes... most dudes couldn't give two shits.

And that's strange to me. Nose hairs growing past the rim of the nostril, a large white zit ready for popping, dirt under the fingernails, dandruff, or a single wild eyebrow hair sticking out. It's all the same to me.

I don't suppose I really care. It just makes me uncomfortable. I want to stare at it like the mole on Fred Savage's face in Goldmember. But I can't stare, because that would be rude. And I can't say something. Not unless it's a close friend. That would be insulting.

So there I am, all uncomfortable. I'm reeling in my own obsession. Should I care? Why can't I simply ignore it like everyone else? I stop listening to what the dude is saying, because I'm completely focused on my own anxiety.

Then a nearly overwhelming desire rushes over me. I want to reach over and pluck it. I want to position my thumb and forefinger around the offending hair, clamp down, and yank. The intense need to remedy the situation doesn't fade. In fact, it just keeps getting worse. I start to sweat and I can feel my hands getting clammy.

It's at this point that the guy I'm talking to starts to realize I've checked out of the conversation. He probably assumes I'm lost in my own thoughts, daydreaming about something entirely unrelated to the conversation. And that much is true. I'm thinking about his fucked up eyebrow.

"Dude, you all right?"
"Yeah, man. I've just got a lot on my mind."