The widower and his pubic hair
SATURDAY, April 3 – So, now we’re talking about the pubic area. Nothing to be ashamed of. Not really. But one of the first things K said to me when we disrobed on her living room couch was: ‘Hey, you’re not shaved.’
Apparently I’m out of fashion or rather I’ve never been in fashion. It’s not a department I pay much attention to. The hairy part that is.
That is until now. Suddenly, I find myself in a situation where, as a newcomer in the marketplace of unattached lovers, I have to worry about my dick. Can’t hurt to google the pros and cons – and the risks, if any. Christ! It’s a whole new world! The research leans in the direction of ‘shave’. So, off I go to the drugstore to check out the possibilities.
Examining the merchandise on display, I resolve not to be stingy. I go for the most expensive razor, plus accessories like shaving gel and after-care products. It’s going to itch. I remember that from the operation in 2003, when the spermatic chord was blocked and the whole area depilated. First I tackle the bunches of pubic hair while standing under the shower. Then it’s time for the razor blade and the gel.
It didn’t sound like fun: delicate procedure, possibly life-threatening. I could already see the blood flowing, but it wasn’t half as bad as I expected. It took a while, but the results were worth it. Reborn and eminently trendy. I’m going to show it to K tonight.