Five o’clock shadow fetishist.

I have a normally baby-faced acquaintance who’s on vacation and has gone a few days without shaving. He just posted a photo on Twitter.

I don’t have strong feelings either way on facial hair. Do whatever pleases you — it’s your face, not mine. But something about it on this guy makes me want to feel his stubble rough up my neck.

(It’s also possible my hormones are on alert and I’m a little more susceptible to stimuli than usual.)

A much more fun manifestation of “maternal instinct.”

I may not want to have children, but seriously, if I find a guy sexy and then I see him snuggling a baby or playing trains with a kid, all sensitive and nurturing-like? I’m going to fuck that guy senseless at the first available opportunity, preferably the minute we get home to my child-free apartment. We won’t even make it to the bedroom — we’ll have to do it in the entryway (which…entryway…heh), because that is your privilege when you don’t have kids.

Good LORD. I thought I was dead inside, but that tingle in my barren baby garden begs to differ. Begs. Pleads, even. UNF.