I admit it. I like my men scruffy. Not the greasy haired, in need of a shower and a flea-dip kind of scruffy, but the "I'm on vacation and I'm not shaving" kind of scruffy. I wouldn't mind being lost on a deserted island with Sawyer, Sayid and Desmond from LOST, no matter how freaky the island is, just to be surrounded by scruffy men.
Mr. Monkey girl falls into the scruffy boy category. I like his scruffiness. It's my thing. But for some reason, he decided to shave this weekend. I don't mean trimming it all short, I mean he is clean shaven. And the really sad thing, it took me over 12 hours to even notice it.
I didn't notice it when I got home last night. Something seemed different but I couldn't put my finger on it. I didn't notice it when he kissed me goodnight last night. I didn't notice it this morning when we got up. I even accused him of giving "mushy" kisses this morning (implying that he wasn't trying hard enough). It wasn't until he came home from the grocery store and handed me a bottle of vanilla extract that it hit me. His face is naked!
I keep finding myself staring at him endlessly. I want my scruffy back! I might have to go to the Halloween store tomorrow to buy him some fake facial hair until his own grows back in. I have a bone to pick with our hairdresser who put the thought in his mind (I'm so not going to tip her next time!). Thankfully, Mr M. is on vacation this week so he should be back to himself in a few days.