Friday 9th January 2009
I don’t like men with beards. Beards are scratchy, unfashionable and spook me out. My brother’s moustache was bad enough, but just about bearable (when he wasn’t grooming food out of it).
While Steve’s hand is broken, he’s not able to shave (it’s his right hand) and I don’t trust myself to do it (he is very fussy), so he’s growing a beard. For such a boy, he is an excellent beard-grower – it’s already pretty bushyish and it’s only been a week. This should freak me out, but it doesn’t. It’s like he is Steve, but subtly different. Both Steve and Not-Steve. And thus even more fanciable. I have never lusted after a beardy man before.
Wednesday 9th January 2019
You can tell it’s 10 years ago from the ‘beards are unfashionable’ comment, and from me not liking facial hair, because by 2012 that had changed substantially 🙂
This was a really happy week or so for us though really. The photo comes from a few weeks later than this, when his plaster was off, but it shows the beard, and the continuing damage to his hand. He did a really good job on it – it needed surgery really, but he refused to have it, so his hand always had a big lump in it after this point.
I suppose it was just easier for him to not rock the boat in any way while he was dependent on me. But he went back to work really quickly, and so then things began to go strange again.