Monday, March 17, 2008

I pick my battle.

The DNB grows a beard!

To be honest, I don't like it.

"To be honest," I tell the DNB, "I don't like it."

He had one when we started dating, and I somehow liked it more then. Now I'm not digging it. But he won't shave it.

"It makes me look more rugged," he claims. I don't have the heart to tell him that all the nail buffing and armpit blowdrying rather undo any effect the beard may have.

"Fine," I say, suddenly inspired. "I'm going to protest by not shaving my legs until you shave your beard."

"Fine," the DNB responds. I'm a little surprised, as this is the man who shudders in disgust if it's been more than 30 minutes since I last shaved.

I soldier on for a week before I gross myself out enough that I cave. I feel weak, and ashamed. The DNB strokes his beard in triumph.

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