I think about the bearish men and their admirers from the past.  How there were others like me who would be confused at being aroused by such beautiful specimens of masculinity.  I listen to the sad love songs on the radio and realize that their lyrical pains are no different from the heartfelt sonnets sung by the bards of old.  Though the illustrations and images of such bearish men throughout history may be archived through faded black and white photographs, there is no mistaking the fact that they possessed the physiques of — for lack of a better word — “gods.” 
How did we, the acolytes, cope with this attraction?  It’s unmistakable what we feel towards these human objects of our affections.  We crave their bodies, their attitudes, and their very mystique of being “bearish” men…

Oh man, I guess it’s that time again when I’m dreaming of having a time machine…  Lol.