Dating and other bad habits.

I grew up in the 80s. It was a time of bright colors, hairspray, cock rock, and, the mustache. My father looked a lot like Tom Selleck, which incidentally, is why I never found dark, hairy men attractive. Thankfully, I came of dating age in the 90s, which was a time of boy bands and the emergence of a new man-creature known as the metrosexual.

I never liked body hair. I have my own battles with being a yeti and thus, as a short, dark, olive-skinned girl from a family of dark, hairy, olive-skinned people, I developed a type. That type was tall, with blonde hair, a relatively hairless body, and skin so pale it was almost luminescent. With the exception of my first boyfriend in high school (who is short, dark-haired, and the sweetest man I’ve ever known) and my first college boyfriend (who is short, dark-haired, and the second sweetest man I’ve ever known), all the  men I’ve had real (read: long)  relationships with have been tall, tow-headed, and skinny as hell.

But lately I’ve developed a new type: the bearded man. I couldn’t explain why or how or when the switch happened. But suddenly I saw Joaquin Phoenix with new eyes.

But according to this article there’s a perfectly logical explanation: hormones. You see, like a good American girl, I’ve been pumped full of fake hormones since the day I turned 16. Until recently that is. And that lack of regulated synthetic hormone (provided by birth control) has made me a bit mountain man happy. The hot waiter I lust after flirt with is gorgeously bearded, as is the most recent guy I dated.

But does bearded mean betrothed? I date a lot (among other bad habits, clearly) but I wonder when I’ll get tricked into fall into another long-term relationship. Will he be another Zac Effron look-a-like? A mountain man? A ginger?

We’ll just have to see what me and my hormones decide, if and when that day occurs.