On a whim, I’ve grown one of my infrequent beards, and it’s starting to itch. The beard hairs are hard and bristly, and the mustache feels like having the skeleton of a herring glued to my upper lip. Kissing and snuggling my loved ones isn’t at all as nice a usual, since the ‘stache makes contact with them long before I do.
Judging from the compliments I’ve received, though, a beard seems to be the way to go if you’re into ladies born in the 1940s. Another possible explanation for the data I have is that women of all ages love my beard, but that only ones of a certain age are daring enough to show their appreciation.