Every time my boyfriend and I share a moment of joint soppiness, he has to purse his lips out as far as possible and I wince my lips in anticipation. This is because Mills has grown some semblance of a beard over the festive season. He absentmindedly strokes it when he's concentrating - like a father, proud of what his testosterone has produced.
I'm not such a fan of pash-rash. I don't like the erratic spikes that attack my face every time he gets within smelling distance (this is why he has to purse his lips - in order to keep his chin hairs from touching me, if he wants any physical contact). And it's orange. He is aware of my objections, and he's okay with it.
I suppose it could be worse. At least he grooms it, chiselling and sculpting bits into some sort of shape. I tolerate it for now... but if this facial cultivation continues, I may have to enforce a full love embargo. I'm just not a fan of facial hair - well, not on someone I have to share personal space with anyway.
Still, you never know - it might just grow on me. Not literally, of course.
Although... people pay good money for freak shows. Is ginger-vitis contagious?