I’m here today to discuss one of my favorite subjects in the world: body hair. More importantly, I want to talk about why you have to get that shit under control, pronto. Personally, I prefer my own paramours to be entirely hairless, but I understand that not everyone has the same sensibilities as I do. Regardless of whether or not you like your man bald as the day he was born down there, I think we can all agree that it needs some maintenance. It’s just common courtesy, really. Generally, it’s the less fair of the sexes who fail to be considerate and conscientious about this, though I know some ladies who take grooming tips from Chewbacca, too. This goes out to all of you.
So let’s talk about it. Let’s have an open discourse about pube-trimming, particularly on our gentlemen. I’ll be the first to say it. I’ve been shaving myself bare since I was a thirteen-year-old manchild. No one even went near the area for at least another three years, but I knew that the day someone else touched my penis, that kind person who dared to enter my pants would not be happy to see a tangled, unkempt mess likening itself to the forest moon of Endor. Sorry for the Star Wars references — I promise that was the last one. But even in my teenage faux wisdom, I was right. Nobody wants to find what looks like a bird’s egg nestled in a bushy nest of barbed wire when attempting to get freaky. No one should have to search for his or her lovers’ hoo-has and wang chungs. You should not need to bring a weed whacker when you’re trying to get your ticket to pound town punched.
In my pubescent stage, I had no idea what I was doing that fateful day I first decided to shave it all off, but like those nerds in American Pie or Seth Green in pretty much every teen movie ever, I knew if I didn’t do it, I would never, ever get laid. I got in the shower, took one of my sister’s razors (sorry, Mandy) and just started hacking away at the thicket, like the blade was a damn machete. I must have spent about an hour on it, but by the time I was done, I looked and felt…normal. Natural. It didn’t even itch or burn as far as I recall, but if it did, it was worth it. I kept it up and maintained it, and I still do to this very day. My general rule is to never let my bikini zone look like anything more aggressive than Anne Hathaway in Les Misérables.
My partners appreciate it, because they aren’t cave people. Everyone wants a schlong that looks nice, sleek, and clean. I’m not saying guys need a napalmed pubic zone, but for the love of Yoncé, it should at least look clean. The last thing we want to do on a hungover morning after a drunken hookup is find a particular kind of hair caught in our teeth. I have a bad enough gag reflex as it is. That’ll just straight-up make me puke.
Guys, if you want to give your ladies a repeat performance, just give yourself a cleanup. Take a razor to your buddy every now and again, maybe even a pair of scissors. There’s really no downside for you. Fewer than five minutes of effort will go a long way for you. Literally, a long way. I’m trying to say it’ll make your dick look bigger. Then maybe wax your back and your eyebrows. Maybe do your upper arms, too, if you’re feeling ambitious. No? Okay. Just the clean peen then. Thank you! And also…you’re welcome..
Image via Shutterstock
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Stefon
New York's Hottest Club is wherever I am. Haters to the front, hunky Sailors to the back. Bow down betches. Follow this bitch on Twitter @StefonTSM StefonTSM@iCloud.com
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