What's hot, what's not

If you’ve ever had a personal conversation with me about boys, then you would know my must have and can’t stand for guys. Must have: good teeth. As in, they are all present. No silver. Relatively straight. Not a shade found on the color wheel. Can’t stand: facial hair (also smoking, but that’s a given). I absolutely hate facial hair. Even side burns. No molestache, please. No scruffy beard. Nothing you could braid or tie a bow in. Some guys may feel they look like they are 15 if they don’t have any facial hair. Well, guess what, I look like I’m 15 too, and I’d rather see your baby face than a mountain man beard.

I have two important theories to back up my must have and can’t stand. You would know these already if you know me well. I feel repetitive saying this, because I feel as though I have explained it a hundred times.

The teeth theory: I figure, if a guy can’t take three minutes a day to brush his teeth and take care of himself, he’s not going to take care of you. You want to know how responsible someone is and how caring they’re going to be? Look inside his mouth. Just like buying a horse.

The facial hair theory: Have you taken a look at recent mug shots that make it into the paper? The majority of them have some sort of facial hair (if they’re male, also, sometimes if they’re not male). Most criminals are scruffy. Now, I’m not saying that you are a criminal if you have facial hair, I’m just saying a large majority of criminals have facial hair. It’s best just to stay away.
This said, I would like to tell you about a guy from my high school who would drive me insane every once in a while. In a good way. We’ll call this guy Mr. Muscles. It wasn’t so much his biceps that caused me to stare, as much as the stubble on his cheeks and chin. I know right? Unpredictable. The height of my crush on Mr. Muscles was our junior year. I had a class with him, and he sat one row over to the right. Mr. Muscles was a clean-shaven boy, so the day he came in with a five o’clock shadow, I practically fell out of my desk swooning for him.

Here is what you have to understand. In high school, some boys can grow some peach fuzz and others can grow a beard. While I thought all the guys who did grow beards were disgusting, I thought it was totally hot to have to shave everyday. Mr. Muscles’ stubble was hot because there was a lot of it—though hardly noticeable to someone who did not inspect him thoroughly each day—and it wasn’t all patchy like some guys’. By patchy stubble, I mean they have like five gross strands sticking out of their face.

I kept glancing over to look at Mr. Muscles’ stubble, because it wasn’t there the day before. This meant that he did indeed have to shave everyday to keep up his regular appearance. I envisioned a scene in my head where Mr. Muscles was up late studying for physics and too sleepyfaced in the morning to shave. Being smart is hot. I only liked the stubble because it was gone the next day. If you have stubble for five days, that’s not hot. But he just had it for one day, then it disappeared. It happened again one day three weeks later. Again, the very sight of it made me forget iambic pentameter. Oh, did I say we were in English class? That was a secret. I think Mr. Muscles’ pheromones were landing right under my nose.

I may seem really ridiculous when I say this, but it would not have been hot if he had stubble once or twice every week. The fact that it happened for only one day at a maximum of every two weeks is what made it sexy. Rugged. Oh god, the memories of it. So basically, I guess what I am saying is: facial hair on guys is totally disgusting, unless it’s one day stubble every two to three weeks. But I’m not letting up on the teeth thing. I guess being so particular might be part of the reason the prefix to my name is still Miss.