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High-glamour, the kind that takes a bunch of time and a dozen jars of paint and chemicals, no longer impresses me. Faces with little or no make-up, but filled with joy, are WAY WAY more attractive. I prefer less hair rather than more, but consider hair-taming efforts a bonus rather than an expectation. Lately, I've been helping and it's pretty darned fun. She never shaves. She plucks and waxes. She's definitely a hippie chick and sometimes there's fuzz but by the time we get to the James Cotton concert tomorrow night, she will be smooth as a baby's bottom. I'll have trouble concentrating on the concert.
Again, these matters I consider bonus activities. In the hierarchy of things that make a woman desirable, hair removal ranks poorly. Values and attitude head the list, followed by things such as availability and responsiveness, if you know what I mean. I am a very lucky man. I've got my own squeaky toy.
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Man of Carbon Fiber (stronger than steel)
Mocha 1978 911SC. "Coco"
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