1. January, the month I decide to finally shave the beard I've only kept for seven months because it's the most attractive thing about me to women. It's somewhat sad and ironic, because people always tell me I'm the type that grows on people. Now I wonder if they were just talking about the beard.
    It will receive 41 likes on Facebook, all from women who are married, and none of whom are my first love.
  2. February, a picture of my in-progress desperation beard in preparation for another go at Match.com, despite the last time I signed up specifically to write to a woman, when she called me fat and caused me to lose so much weight I really might have done irreversible damage to my stomach.
    This will receive 50 likes on Facebook, including one from my first love. I will keep the beard forever, I decide.
  3. March, the obligatory "I'm 38" picture. I imagine I will be clean-shaven in this picture, regardless of my non-relationship status, so as to better showcase my aged face.
    Due to my change in beard status, no like from my first love, but 12 users approve, including my mom. Many comments that just say "Why??"
  4. April. Gotta show off the whiskers. I will have read just after my birthday that 38 is when more gray pops up in your stubble and I will be eager to test this theory.
    Will post to Facebook only so I can then use it on all the dating websites I've signed up for again. Picture receives 7 likes. An off month for Facebook use that alarms me.
  5. May. I will shave to cool my face from the already oppressive Carolina heat. My face will hopefully be less garishly ashen by this point in the year. Even still, Bilitis filter will be utilized.
    As this and most other selfies I take are me just standing in my apartment, my comfort zone for self-love, for this one I will dress up my accent wall to look like a jungle. Maybe no one will realize that it's just a pair of leopard-print leggings from a really big fat lady who left them in the communal dryer. Regardless, 68 likes. My first love is on vacation, misses being #69, which she would have loved.
  6. June. Sam will probably be in this one, as he will be turning 9 at the end of this month. I will take 36 selfies of us before finally getting one in which it looks like I actually love him as much as I say I do.
    Then part of one of my teeth will be out in the picture and I'll just go back to the very first one. It will get 111 likes on Facebook.
  7. July, maybe at a baseball game? I have been wanting to try wearing hats again to baseball games. I know it is not possible to be more bald after wearing one hat one time, but even when I have a hat on for thirty seconds, I instantly feel balder.
    Or maybe another taken while visiting Pennsylvania. I'll approach an Amish family and mash an ice cream cone on one of their heads, then take a picture of myself with them in the background. FUCKING Amish. Baseball game gets 50 likes and many comments about the bill of my cap looking impossibly long. I throw the cap away, people still say, "You're killin' me, Smalls" when I see them in real life. I start secret cutting.
  8. August. That's my childhood home in the background. You can see the current owner on a cordless phone peeking out at what I'm doing.
    You can't call the police if I was technically here first. In 1982. 6 likes. It is back to school season, and my perceived narcissism runs counter to everyone else's first day of school pictures.
  9. September. Pointedly taking a picture in front of calendar with my ex-girlfriend's birthdate circled. I will try to look friendly and sexually harmless to her current husband, but if she looks at the picture, she'll notice right away that my eyes are saying, "My parents' basement. 10:30. Say you're getting donuts."
    37 likes, including my first love, who is actually related to the husband.
  10. October. It's my work's Halloween party and I'm dressed like Paul McCartney again, but this time the "Say Say Say" Mac & Jac tonic salesman version. There is no Jac to my Mac, because not only do I not know any black people, I don't have ANY friends.
    88 likes. People are suckers for Halloween.
  11. November. That's me with the giant pot of mashed potatoes over my head.
    I should have washed this first. 90 likes. People love embarrassing situations. I post this on first love's birthday. I know she'll notice, and she does.
  12. December. A picture of me standing on tiptoes and putting the angel on a Charlie Brown tree that's on top of my refrigerator.
    101 likes, including my first love, who comments, "Come over IMMEDIATELY." I do. She becomes pregnant. We name the boy Tron Rutherford, something I always said as a joke to friends, but who's laughing now? She never marries me. and when Tron turns 14 and moves to a new town with his mom, he begins going by "Brent." He does this in tribute to a boy from his old school who was kidnapped by an airline pilot and never found, and because I don't know this, Brent resents me for years to come.