I’m pretty much the worst. Nothing ever impresses me. All guys annoy me. And my family is convinced I will be single and alone for the rest of my life. Just how I like it. There is, however, that one ray of sunshine that breaks through the clouds about once a month where I do find someone immensely attractive. I either love them, or hate them. I had recently come across a unicorn man (and trust, I want to punch myself in the face for using the basic white girl “unicorn” reference, but alas, I am basic, and white) that I thought was possibly going to turn my cold heart. He was funny, smart, and super tall, which as we all know is the most important trait a human male can have. Then I went Facebook stalking, because, duh, and found something that could throw a huge wrench in my system. He has chest hair. A lot.
Until this point in my 22 years on Earth, I had been convinced that chest hair was absolutely, not for me. No ifs, ands, or buts about it. The most attractive man in the world could come up to me, sweep me off my feet, but if he looked like a mammoth underneath his J. Crew button down, I was outta there. But could this particular man make me change my judgmental, picky ways? Lol, no, but I continued to entertain the thought anyway.
When a guy has chest hair, you’re reminded that you’re with a MAN. He looks like the kind of guy who can change a tire and chop wood, even if he is a little bitch, and that can be attractive. You know what else is attractive? When a guy isn’t high-maintenance. Shaved Chest Guy is usually Gym Guy, who is usually Mirror Selfie Guy, and we’ve just gone down a vain, vain road that’s not emotionally stimulating for anyone. Except maybe him.
Physically, there are some benefits as well. Stubble doesn’t feel great. Sometimes a girl’s just trying to ride a man without daggers poking out of his body and into your thighs. Plus, it gives you something to play with when you’re drawing circles in his chest in the morning, so, uhh, that’s cool.
Honestly? It just looks gross. Gym Guy? He’s hot. There’s a reason he’s vain — because he looks fucking good, and I don’t care what that means for his personality. I don’t want to have to use a weed whacker in the bedroom to navigate your body. I don’t want to go digging around when I’m looking for nipple play. And I don’t want a mouthful of fur when I’m making my way down to the goods. A hairball is going to ruin the mood REAL quick.
Also, keep in mind, you know who is FAMOUS for having a disgusting hairy chest? Your fucking dad. Enjoy whatever that means for you, psychologically, weirdos.
I suppose the ultimate, is a happy medium — the best of both worlds as our Lord and Savior, Hannah Montana, would say. You need a little bit to remind you that this is an adult man, and not a child, but not so much that you’re needing to use “No tangles, no tears” to get your fingers through it. I think we can make it work..
Image via Shutterstock