I’ve never made it a secret that if time/space/and ability to pick up any man I wanted were not factors there would only be one man for me. That man…Robert Plant. Robert Plant of the tight jeans and open shirts. Robert Plant of Song Remains the Same. Robert Plant of fucking women with fish in some hotel in Seattle. That Robert Plant.
And don’t even get me started on the facial hair having Robert Plant around this
time.
I seriously love me some facial hair having men.
