I’m just going to come out and say it:
I LOVE BEARDS.
I have no idea why.
My father vacillated back and forth between having a beard and being clean shaven.
He was also hairy as all get up.
I remember clearly being in the swimming pool with him as a little toddler and wrapping my hands in his back hair to hold on while he jumped around the pool holding me in his arms.
But I’m pretty sure my love of beards did not come from my father.
I do not have a “Daddy complex.”
Not even close.
And I have not one, but TWO dads.
My love of beards has reached epic proportions.
I think it qualifies as a full-blown fetish now.
I get a little thrill when I see any man between the ages of 25 and 55 with a beard.
Man with a beard?
Gird your loins, your hormones are about to blow!
My lovers as of late?
The Ranger? Has a goatee.
The Traveler? Bearded.
The College Student? Bearded?
The Burner? Bearded?
My goodness, there’s a pattern here that I simply can’t deny.
I LOVE BEARDS!