I love a nice beard more than I love most things. Always have, always will. It is probably my most favorite feature on a man. Oh, God. The bigger and bushier the better, a lot of times. Although these days, I’ll settle for what I can get. There’s a beard for almost every style. That beards are in right now works in my favor. I don’t get girls/women who like the clean-shaven military-style look. Beards are hot, historically speaking. Jesus had a beard. Abraham Lincoln. Aragorn. Let it Be-era Paul McCartney. I’m pretty sure Shakespeare had one. Lots of one-name basis dudes rocked major facial hair. Artists. Poets. Leaders. I Googled “beard porn” the other day. I’m disgusting. But I’m okay with it, as long as you are.
There are maybe three to five men in the entire world who look good and maybe even better clean-shaven. Hayden Christensen for example, should probably never grow a beard. He’s too damn pretty. Chace Crawford looks boyishly adorable when he’s only slightly scruffy. The prettier the boy the weirder a beard looks. I’ve examined my beard-lust scientifically and I hypothesize this: I’m super girly, therefore I have high levels of estrogen (oh do I!) – therefore, I seek a male counterpart with equally high levels of testosterone. Beard = manly and manly = testosterone. The juxtaposition of smooth soft girl skin and coarse man hair works out so well. It’s really the most flawless equation ever.
I love the pride that men take in their beards when they grow them “just for themselves.” What do women have that even rivals that? Take bubble baths? (Yes.) Now I’ve convinced a boyfriend or two to ditch the razor for a week, maybe two. The response they get in return makes it well worth their while, believe me. I’m always really perturbed when guys seem to honestly think that women want them to be smooth and hairless head to toe. No, lads, that’s womankind that’s been dealt the miserable hand of full-body hair removal. You go on, be hairy. The hairier the better. I’ll make myself a pillow on your chest hair and stroke your beard until I’m lulled softly to sleep. Thank you.
My Boyfriend Wrote a Book About Me by Hilary Winston is a book I read about someplace and decided I absolutely had to read, so I put it on hold at my local library (a great secret if you happen to like books, which I do). I think hilarious women writers may be my most favorite genre of all (Sloane Crosley, Elizabeth Crane, Julie Klausner) and Ms. Winston doesn’t disappoint. Firstly, I can relate. She’s the proud mama of two cats, chronically single, and happens to take a lot of baths. The title is indeed telling of the story within, Winston’s ex evidently did write a tell-all book thinly veiled as a fictitious novel, dubbing her his “fat-assed girlfriend.” (Thanks to sleuth Googling skills I found out that “Kyle” is Chad Kultgen, and the book is called The Average American Male. Vicious and must-read.) Through the ashes of her grief and humiliation, Winston spins heartbreaking and hilarious dating/sex/relationship tales. Her candor is disarming, refreshing, and will make you cringe – she’s bold enough to write about herself completely unselfconsciously and as a result, you get a fantastic package of real and relatable stories.
