Somewhere between its Hellenistic Greek mustax origins (thanks, Wikipedia) and the curious case of Brad Pitt’s teen-stash at last weekend’s Golden Globes, the moustache (pronounced moo-stash) made a mysterious and unwarranted comeback. You heard me: flavour-savers aren’t just for laundry day anymore. Angelina says so. But if you’re expecting a rave review here, you’d best think again, pervert.

But wait! You say. What about those devilishly handsome old chaps that I see clips of on AFI Specials? Good thought, but face the fact: gone are the good old days of Clark Cable and Tom Selleck (now that’s a ‘stache!). Your regular soup-strainer falls into one of three distinct, and distinctly unsexy, categories: the Dadstache, the Disgustache, and whatever it is that Brad’s pushing and I ain’t buying.

Firstly, and with full disclosure here: my dad has a moustache. Lots of dads do and that’s ok. If anything, it’s more reason to just say No, daddy, no to lip foliage of all forms. (Fu-Manchu? No. Handlebar? Oh, no. Soul Patch? No, no, no.) Daddy duds include Alex Trebek, Geraldo Rivera, and Uncle Phil; Baby-daddy duds include Kevin Federline and Hulk Hogan.

The disgustache is just as unsexy as the dadstache, but way more disgusting. Think Ron Jeremy, think the French, think the homeless man that hangs in your lobby. Shudder, then don’t think of this ever again.

But less homeless and more homo, and distinctly un-daddy, is this super-groomed accessory toted by the metrosexuals that prance up and down Rodeo Drive. Beneath the guise of macho display, this furry trend masks roots of blatant hypocrisy: I’m talking Facial Hairstylists (those exist), special conditioners (did you know boys do that?), and teeny weeny mustache scissors (unlike the kitchen variety that the rest of us use, and return to the drawer).

Case in point: Besides Brad, note baby-faced Orlando Bloom (who looks like he drew on himself with magic marker), Adam Sandler appearing as a cartoon version of himself, and the furry-faced Ryans trying desperately to pass as grown-ups. Since Eric McCormick’s lip-lingerer can’t get any awkwarder and Napoleon Dynamite thinks he deserves to rock a Zappa-stash, it looks like the relationship between man and mustache is getting a little, uh, fuzzy.

For masculinity-affirming men, facial hair is a great way to show off without actually revealing their balls. But adding colour using an eyebrow pencil applied with a make-up brush isn’t so tough. Catcalling a stranger with an invite for a mustache-ride will surely impress your friends. Telling your square-faced friend that boxy-boys should sport the rounder “horseshoe” may not.

So when Brad tells People, “It’s fashion. Who am I without creative facial hair?” (and then accuses George Clooney of copying him, Mean Girls-style), I tell Brad: Moustaches are to boys as bangs are to girls. You want um, you think they look awesome, but as soon as people assume you’re wearing a novelty costume, it’s time to get real, come clean, and lose that douche-stache once and for all.