He would.

My husband has this "tradition" he started two years ago called The Tribute Beard.  Each fall he starts growing a Tribute Beard to honor the Pilgrims.  He grows it until Thanksgiving and then shaves it off.  Well, that's the idea, anyway.  The first year was a success.  The second year he claims he started growing it too soon and before the day of Thanks came round he had shaved it off due to his own annoyance with it.  This year when he announced it was time to start growing the thing I huffed and puffed a bit because- and ladies, you'll back me up on this won't you? - I don't enjoy being kissed or snuggled with the end result being a good layer of my skin sandpapered off.  BUT, being the supportive wife that I am, I did not tell him he could not do it.  So the growing of the facial hair began and I may or may not have given a whimper or a quiet "ouch!" when kissed, but if the man of the house wanted to grow a beard, so be it.

Last night, after perhaps an "ouch", he said (and not for the first time) "Yeah right, it doesn't hurt."  To which I said, "I wish that I could show you one of these days that it truly does."  And he said a bit sarcastically, "What, are you not going to shave your legs?"  And I said, "That is no where near the same!"

So, as I fell asleep I composed in my head a scathing blog post about his Tribute Beard and it was good and clever and funny and would have had you all carrying picket signs saying "DOWN WITH TRIBUTE BEARDS!"

But then, this morning, when he kissed me goodbye in the semi-conscious state in which one would find me at 6:30 in the morning, I managed to notice that he was clean shaven.  I also managed to grumble, "What happened to your beard?"

"Kissing you is more important than a tribute beard."

And that's why I a married him.