I have officially been living in Cape Town for nearly a month now and, during my time here, there is something that I have noticed: a large majority of the men in this fair city are incredibly hairy (this statement may be viewed as somewhat of a generalisation, but hey, it’s my blog). Never before have a hugged a 24 year old guy, and had my neck tickled by his protruding chest hair! Now I’m not implying that all males should be as smooth and shiny as marbles, but in my opinion, there are definite limits to the amount of body hair that should be put on display.
Some of you may argue that it’s not the man’s fault; that he can’t help it if he is blessed with Samson-like genes, and I totally agree. My issue isn’t so much about the hair itself, but I do find fault in the way in which it is presented to the unsuspecting public. To put it bluntly: a woman with a fat belly shouldn’t wear a tank top, therefore a man with excessive back hair should resist the urge to don a teeny-tiny flimsy wife-beater ... especially if he is planning on rubbing up against innocent bystanders such as yours truly!
Maybe this is just a matter of preference? Perhaps there are some women out there who actually enjoy having their mouths chafed by that furry dark thing that is living upon their boyfriends’ upper lips. I mean, I am sure that there are some benefits to dating an excessively hairy man – not needing an extra blanket in winter being one of them - however I am not entirely convinced. Oh well, I guess it’s just a matter of different strokes for different folks, but for me, I think I’ll stick to stroking my cat as opposed to a love interest’s chest hair.