I've been discovering that dudes with grey hair are pretty hot.
Up until now, I've looked at older men in the same way I regard my father, stepfather and my grandfather. Older men. Whole separate entities from young, fresh-faced dudes with Hercules belts. And now, I'm starting to dig...grey hair? I don't mean a full-on head of white. Come on, I'm not fully dead below the waist. I mean, some silver at the temples, some silver in the goatee. Choooooow.
Heh.
What could this mean? And when did this shift happen? Will this mean I'm going to start enjoying Old Spice and Drakkar? Comb overs? Saggy man titties and turkey neck? White shoes with black socks? Damn.
I can't put my finger on it. Anytime I find some silver strands in my own hair I gasp for air, cry out to the heavens and then pluck it out. I recently found a grey eyebrow hair. Holey smokes. Surely, the end is near. I'm just thankful it takes a dentist chair, a circus mirror and some garden shears to get down and inspect the nether regions for any signs of silver. Oh dear Lawd. Lie to me, Michael, please. If you love me, you will tell me the carpet still matches the drapes.
But in a man, somehow it is sexy. How unfair is that? Sigh. What a cruel, cruel world. But now that I'm really pondering this phenomena, I'm beginning to recognize it's roots...my man, who wakes up everyday with more and more silver to add to his crown of glory.
