Beards

I love beards. It is a deep and fiery passion, over which I have no control. If I was a chap I’d grow one of my own but sadly I cannot. At least not yet – give me a decade or two. Until that time, I am forced only to admire the beards of others.

I have been a Pogonophile for many years. I believe this may stem from my childhood love of moustaches and in particular that on the lip of the glorious Mr Boyd.

Mr Boyd was deputy-headmaster at my primary school and a more caring, insightful and dashing gentleman you could not meet. He was a tall, elegant man with thick, dark hair, twinkling brown eyes and the most stupendous moustache. My childish adoration of this man and his wonderful tash has, I believe, blossomed into my full grown, nasty beard-love.

I don’t think I’ll go too far into what the sight (and touch) of a beard does to me. I don’t feel we know each other well enough yet. I will however, give an example of how far my passion goes.

A number of years ago I was in love with a man named Shem. The love of my life. We seemed perfect for each other, similar tastes, the same sense of humour and complimentary personalities. But, somehow, we just couldn’t live peacefully together. Over time, the fiery sides of our natures took over and we fought more and more. I was often unhappy but couldn’t think of leaving him. I couldn’t bear the thought of never seeing his face again. His warm, dark eyes, curly black hair and Che Guevaraesque facial growth. Then one day, for work, he shaved! I looked at his smooth face. That face I’d loved for so long, and I realised. For goddess knows how many months, I’d stayed with him for the sake of the beard!

Even now, I am often surprised by my reactions to unexpected beard sightings. I am privileged to work among many attractive, intelligent and accomplished men who, in the normal course of things, I would have no dark feeling for. However, should one of these chaps suddenly appear, sporting any sort of fuzzy facial growth, I go all a-quiver. I have done everything in my power to advance the spread of beardiness. I have encouraged and cajoled many men into growing their own face-shrubs. I have praised new growth and expressed regret over untimely shavings.

I am fully aware that this is not a passion shared with many woman but I am not ashamed. I am a woman who loves men who have beards.