DEAR MISS MANNERS: A very dear friend of mine, with whom I\u2019ve been friends for 50 years, has grown a full set of very long facial hair. He now has a full beard and a large mustache, all gray.<\/p>\n
Years ago, I was assaulted by a man with exactly that gray facial hair. Even looking at pictures of my friend now traumatizes me.<\/p>\n
We live far apart, and see each other in person only once a year, but I don\u2019t know how I can face him in person, let alone have our usual hugs. I love this friend, and I certainly can\u2019t expect him to shave for me.<\/p>\n
I\u2019ve done therapy for this several times, and apparently it hasn\u2019t helped. I\u2019m really afraid for my mental health if we get together. What can I do? How can I manage this?<\/p>\n
GENTLE READER: You know that anyone else to whom you brought this question would send you off to therapy yet again.<\/p>\n
Miss Manners does not do that because her more limited mandate is, rather, to help people get along peacefully, even when they supply reasons for offending others. Thus when medical exemptions are granted, they should be accompanied with apologies or other means of deflecting the cause from those likely to be hurt.<\/p>\n
We are more flexible, these days, about adjusting things around others\u2019 particular sensitivities. Hosts now routinely inquire whether prospective guests have food restrictions. An office may ask that employees not wear perfume that bothers their colleagues.<\/p>\n
But there are limits. Of course you cannot ask your friend to alter his appearance for your once-a-year encounters. And suppose that he did: What if his bare face reminded you (or someone else) of some other trauma?<\/p>\n
Miss Manners thinks of a chance encounter of her own with a kind stranger. She was in New York City, carrying too many packages, which spilled over as she passed an outdoor cafe. A gentleman left his table to rush to retrieve them for her.<\/p>\n