Armie Hammer Has Taken Away Another Thing I Loved Doing: Looking At His Face

From ELLE

Like the rest of the world, I've become accustomed to living a life without the small pleasures I used to enjoy—going to the movies, partaking in bottomless brunch, and changing my clothes regularly among them. I'll happily give it all up until it's safe to resume. One time-honored activity I didn't expect to also go on hiatus? Gazing upon Armie Hammer's face with uncomplicated adoration.

My once-reliable attraction to the actor was stripped away with one sinister Instagram post and a pair of shears. On April 15, Hammer shared what can honestly only be described as an assault on the eyes. In the (deep breath) mirror selfie, he's sporting a curly mohawk, handlebar mustache, disturbing smile, and the eyes of a man who knows he's made a grave mistake. Behold the travesty for yourself:

My facial hair tastes have been controversial before (see: tiny mustaches). But even I cannot rally behind this heartbreaking turn of events. Once you avert your eyes from his new cut, you'll see that his 'fit is just as concerning. He's wearing a fringed V-neck crop top, the likes of which can only be seen in a high school's student section during a football game. From there, we've got swim trunks (?!) and then straight back to his mohawk, which is as crooked as my current mental state. Hammer dared to caption the post, "Killing the game." (No, sir, your jest is not appreciated during this turbulent time.) I had half a mind to report the post for Inappropriate Content.

Pre-pandemic, my Armie attraction wasn't complicated (over six foot, piercing eyes, ability to pull off a tracksuit). But now, I'm forced to confront my crush and deconstruct any feelings I'll develop for him moving forward. A man that I previously would allow to ruin my life has now done just that. Like most choices, beautiful, but chaotic men make there's almost no point in justifying them. Was it an at-home cut gone wrong? Tiger King's influence? Why Armie, why?

Armie, consider this a broken woman's plea: take this time to heal, eat whatever smattering of baked goods is in the background of your Insta post, and then return to the reliably hot person I know you can be. Like my other postponed past times, I'll return to you eventually. But I can't say the relationship will ever be the same.

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