I think there must be an intrinsic link between geeks and beards. If someone had an empty enough life to measure the geek-beard ratio, I reckon it would be way above the national average. In many areas of geek culture, “beardy” is even an adjective used to describe the particularly nerdish and anti-social.

And obviously there’s the indelible image of the clammy, bearded trainspotter with stains on the crotch of his cords and pristine, fully pulled-up white socks showing through his leather sandals. God knows that image isn’t going anywhere. Not if I have anything to do with it, anyway. I’m fiercely protective of geek heritage.

But it’s something more than that. The beard calls out to geeks because, in general, geeks have a stronger need to assert their masculinity than the average bear(d). This overcompensation stems from the fact that back when we were teenagers — back when it counted, godammit — we were always the last nag limping over the finish line when it came to manly milestones. Last to lose the acne. Last to get in a fight (getting beaten up doesn’t count – there’s nothing manly about soaking your school tie in tears). We were even the last ones to dance with a girl at the school disco. And even then it was just because Mrs. Maclean took pity on us. And she only had one eye, so it was hardly a conquest.

But when we hit our twenties, we became men. Men, I tells ya! And we were fucked if we weren’t going to show the world. Beards are just the easiest way of accomplishing that. And not small, subtle soul patches, either. Leave them for the footballers and the perpetually deodorised. No, I’m talkin’ about the mighty mutton chop; the sixties sideburn; the illustrious handlebar. Face fuzz that’ll get you noticed, and let everyone know that you’re a fucking caveman and you can grow your pubes wherever you damn well please.

I’ve been a dedicated beard overcompensator since the day my older brother first shaved the fluff off my upper lip, cutting me up a storm in the process. Mostly, I’ve kept things pretty restrained – goatees, trampy stubble, and other such conservative styles.

Recently, I’ve decided to throw caution to the wind and grow my beard out in full. I didn’t stop there, however. I ALSO shaved my hair to the EXACT length of my beard, making my head look ENTIRELY SYMMETRICAL. If you saw me hanging upside down, you’d probably wonder what my neck, torso and legs were doing sticking out of the top of my head, and how I managed to master the art of head-based levitation.

Many, I wager, would shiver at the thought of walking the streets with a head like a charred tennis ball. But because I am a geek, this makes me happy. Because I know that when people think to themselves, “that man is a bearded freak; the very image of a predatory paedophile,” at least they’ll think of me as a man. A man who’s manly enough to potentially get away with hanging out at a construction site. As long as I didn’t have to do any actual work. I have very delicate nails.