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Yup.

Mine is hairy, scary and ~nowhere~ near a ‘pretty boy’ [had one of those once...turned out to be worthless wife beater] but I wouldn’t trade my man for a hundred Tom Sellecks.

I look at him and see a darkly beautiful guardian angel.

Tonight in WalMart, some jackass asked hubby if I was his daughter.

If I’d heard it happening, [before “dad” took care of him] I’d have gut-hooked that maggot right there, much as I ripped the creep at a biker party who made a “Beauty & The Beast” crack, years ago.

[as if that fat wimpy slob had any room to talk..or a snowball’s chance in Hell]

For all that he’s not “pretty”, even after all these years I have to be watchful for the women who are charmed by his incredible “presence”.

“Looks” ain’t squat.

Pure animal magnetism trumps that, for square.

18 years later and I still go weak in the knees.

[even though I’m notoriously impossible to impress]