As a dude, what’s the best way to address my preference about grooming in the pubic region to a babe I’m seeing?
The Lawn Boy
Dear Lawn Boy,
Thank you so much for your letter, if only because it gives me the opportunity to discuss my first (and last, so far) Brazilian wax. (I love this story.) It was my 29th birthday. I was visiting my friend in NYC. We went to the bar, got drunk on red wine, and before you could say Kojak, am laying on a waxing table, naked from the waist down. I explained to the wax lady that this was my first of any sort of bikini wax. Ever. She just giggled and said “ooooo!” (There was a language barrier.) So anyway, I’m drunk and naked, she’s giggling and waxing and we’re doing okay. Until she starts making her way to the…center. All of a sudden, it was like “YEEEOW.” And she was like, “ohhhhh. sorry sorry.” And I was gripping for dear life to the towel crusted in dried wax where I lay in anxious repose. And then wax lady starts blowing on my crotch under the impression that sprays of her saliva would soothe the bare and bleeding spots of my cookie. (Not okay.) She giggles and blows and giggles and blows. Oh the humanity. I swatted her away, she gave me a minute to collect what was left of my pride and resumed stripping off everything within chaffing distance of my bikini line. Except for a landing strip. Oh, the landing strip. It’s just so…weird, as are all the other designs women prune into their muff:
I’m an all or nothing kinda girl, so this errant (and crooked, I might add) strip of hair was redonkulous. I felt like the Charlie Brown Christmas tree.
Since then, I’ve wandered around in various stages of pruning, because let’s face it, when it’s cold outside or I’m on a dating sabbatical, I just really can’t be bothered to shave, wax, or groom anything. As well, I grew up in the 70s. And come on you neurotic, bleach-imbibing, hand-sanitizing zealots: Hair is natural and healthy. It’s meant to protect our genitalia. How did we get to the point of hair down there being gross? (Remember when Katerina Witt posed nude for Playboy and everyone sniffed about her bush? I think she looked awesome.)
So, LB, the reason I’ve brought this up is 1. I like to talk about myself and 2. I want to be clear on the issues of removing hair from the nether region. Unless we’re talking about a haircut with scissors. This is generally foolproof and I wholeheartedly support this. Razors cause razor bumps and a rash, and sometimes you just can’t stop shaving until it’s all gone. (Not that that has ever happened to me.) And waxing just freaking hurts. And don’t get me started on Nair. Evil chemicals. Stay away.
If, despite all of these warnings LB, you still want less hair, I say just tell her. Be gentle. This is sensitive. Don’t say things like, “So, you like a big bush?” Or “Did you run out of razors?” Be like, “What do you think about shaving down there? It might feel better for both of us.” Suggest depilatory foreplay. (Meow, right?) A friend of mine did that with her boyfriend. We called her Bald Eagle for years.
So yes, in all areas of getting to know someone sexually and emotionally, you have to tell your babe what you want. I will advise against calling her babe in this one instance, LB. You don’t want to conjure up notions of infantilism while asking her to groom her pubic region to more closely resemble prepubescence. Just sayin’. Also, what is this “babe” crap? My mom uses this term when she is referring to a floozy. If she’s good enough for you to have sex with, please, for the love of all that is holy, call her a woman. Show some respect when you ask her to dumb down her vagina! Just kidding. (About the dumb down part. You still need to respect.)
Fun fact: In Victorian times, whores wore pubic wigs. The wig was called a merkin and it has been around since the 1400s when it was originally worn by women who had shaved their pubic hair off to prevent lice. In the Victorian times, prostitutes wore them to hide the fact that they had VD. (Syphilis, anyone?)