My husband and I have been together a long time. We’ve lived in three different houses. We’ve had a son together. We’ve gone through illness and recovery, changes of employment, and emotional ups and downs aplenty.
So how do we keep it hot?
Just kidding. This isn’t one of those articles about how to keep the spunk in your funk. But it IS about how your man maintains his junk.
Manscaping. Let’s talk about it.
I personally don’t have an opinion on manscaping either way—at least not with regards to the look of it. Bushy or bald, as long as he doesn’t smell like a musk ox down there, I’m good. So when my husband asks me if it’s time for a trim, I just shrug. Sure. Go for it. Or not. I don’t mind.
However. What I do mind is the fallout of manscaping. I mind that very much. Because whatever might inspire my husband to “take a little off the top,” that motivation never extends to cleaning up the 40,000 pube corpses he leaves behind. (He claims he “doesn’t see them.”)
This chaps my ass. I’m the one who cleans the bathrooms, and in a house dominated by dudes, the bathrooms are already disgusting. I don’t need a weekly visit from the Pube Fairy to make my job even grosser.
Don’t get me wrong. I appreciate the fact that my husband likes to keep himself neat and tidy down below. I’m sure it equates to all of my own beauty routines that no one really notices but still make me feel pretty and sexy. I’m sure my husband’s manscaping does the same for him.
The difference is that when I’m done with my grooming, I don’t expect HIM to clean up the detritus.
“Hey, baby. Welcome home after twelve hours of work. Oh, you want to go wash your face and lie down? You’ll have to move the ten pounds of makeup I left scattered all over the bed and bathroom.”
“Hey, baby. Thanks for shoveling a foot of snow out of the driveway. I clipped my toenails in the middle of the kitchen floor, don’t step in those. Even better, here’s a broom and dustpan. Have at it.”
“Hey, baby. You are so gorgeous. Maybe we can fool around . . . right after you empty out my Pedi-Egg.”
The point I’m making is that the special things you do in the interest of sex appeal aren’t going to be too effective if your partner ends up having to do A CHORE as a result, and manscaping is no exception. It may keep things fresh and have a slightly metrosexual appeal, but if I’m spending the whole next day wiping up a mess of damp, crunchy pubes? Please. That ain’t hot. That’s just . . . not.
I love my husband dearly. But we could take sex to a whole new level if I knew I wasn’t going to have to sweep up a metric ton of his crotch spiders each and every time he shears himself down.
Just clean it up, husband.
CLEAN IT UP!
Originally published by BLUNTmoms.
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