The Secret Shaver’s Society

In this week’s podcast, we are discussing The Vajayjay and in the course of that discussion, this old blog post was mentioned… reposting here for fun ūüėČ ¬†If you haven’t checked out The Tales From The Chicks podcast, you can find us on itunes ūüôā
Originally posted August 30, 2005
It all started with a hair.
A hair is such a tiny little thing, but you get one that is ingrown and it can make your life a living hell while it sorts out its issues with its little hair therapist. We females tend to get these a couple of times a year, give or take. So, Thursday I got one. Being females, this came up in conversation between Jennifer and I. We, somehow or another, came to the conclusion that it would be best for the hair if I shaved off all the other hair. You know, so it wouldn’t be so scared to come out. So, all of it. As in bald.
Yeah, some of you are like “so what?” but I haven’t ever done that before so I was like “uh, no.” Jennifer assured me that many many many females out there are doing this and expressed some serious curiosity at how I could have made it twenty five years without ever having shaved down there. If I remember correctly, she said “I can’t believe you have never shaved your kooch!” That’s such a lovely word… I explained that it was really quite simple, I just don’t do that. I am, what I like to call, a trimmer. I keep everything trimmed and neat and am perfectly happy to do so. I have never felt the urge or need to just make it all go away. Just shave it all…
Anyway, I figured what the hell right? I mean, what harm can there be in it? Apparently everyone’s doing it. So Friday, it all went. All of it. And – WEIRD. I was immediately pissed that I had done it and didn’t dig it all. But, I shrugged it off and figured it was no big deal… it would grow back in a few days and all would be right in my world pants again.
Until he called Saturday on his way to my place. I was like yeah, ok, I’ll see you in what? Fifteen minutes? Ok, cool.
Then I hang up.
And then it hits me.
OH. FUCK. Oh fuck, no, fuck fuck fuck. I immediately call Jennifer (who doesn’t answer until the second time I call!!) In between her fits of laughing, she assures me that this is really not that big of a deal and that I shouldn’t be freaking out about it! Oh, I wasn’t freaking out about it all. I was trying to barter my soul for a little crotch toupee, but I wasn’t freaking out or anything…
“Well, what do I tell him?” I asked her as I paced up and down my hallway. “He’s going to notice that something is different Jenn-if-er!”
There is a two minute break in conversation here while she laughs and then dries her eyes while catching her breath.
“Don’t tell him anything, he’ll figure it out by himself.”
Another minute and a half while I am aghast at this entire thought process.
“Are you fucking kidding me? I can’t just sit back and not tell him! I can’t believe this! This is your fault you know??? You were the one who said it was normal! Ohmygod…”
More laughing followed by the promise to relay this entire story to her brother in a few minutes.
“Seriously, Heather, it is nothing. Maybe he’ll like it.”
“Like it? Like it? Are you fucking serious? Have you seen it? I mean, not mine. But have you ever looked at yours? I mean, have you really looked? Who does this anyway? Why would he like it…. Oh… he had better not like it! I am so not doing it again, even if he does like it!”
She can’t even respond. She is a nifty little fit of giggles and can’t even answer me. I had to go anyway. I had like ten minutes to find some way to fix this problem.
Ten minutes later…
Yeah, I couldn’t barter anything I had for hair. Turns out that your soul? Yup, pretty much useless in the grand scheme of things. He got there and we stood outside and talked but I can’t hear anything he is saying because there is the constant There isn’t any hair down there! How do you bring that up in conversation? Hey, so, um, just thought I would let you know, I shaved. Yup. Just shaved it all off. God – I can’t fucking say that! What the fuck do you say? Can you say anything or does this violate some law somewhere?
“Heather? Heather? Hey, are you ok?”
“What? Oh yeah, I am fine. Sorry, was just -er- thinking about some thing… anyway, you were saying?”
So I manage to keep myself distracted enough to concentrate on our conversations with out obsessing. I mean, it isn’t that big of a deal right? I mean, he isn’t going to just freak out and run to his car screaming right? Oh god.
So, some time passes and we end up in bed. Ok, shut up, I know we always end up in be, ok? I knew it was going to happen, it wasn’t shocking or anything. But then I am thinking about how to work it into the kissing and groping and… well you know. So, I stalled. Instead of just getting it over with, I instead stayed dressed and went down on him. (Ok, keep in mind that I am still trying to overcome this problem. It will happen, ok??) I stayed there… for a long time. Well, I kind of went from kissing, back down, to kissing and back down. And I was actually having a pretty fucking good time.
He, however, wanted to get my pants off. So he tries to and I am all like “no, um.. no.” He looks at me like I have lost my goddamned mind. Which is pretty much the same way I would have looked at him. He’s all like “are you serious?” So, resume making out and he tries again and I say “hey, uh, I need to tell you something…” and he says “right now?” And I say “yeah.” But neither of us are really stopping to talk, because really, who wants to talk just then? I mean, any talking you want to be doing isn’t about the weather or your taxes, it is more directive or encouragement or… well you know, stuff relating to the sex you are having. So, he tries a third time and I pull my head out of the spin cycle and tell him I need to tell him something. He must have realized I was serious or he realized that if he didn’t stop and let me say what I needed to say that he may never get into my pants. Either way, he stopped. “Ok, what is it?” Now, I could have said like five words here and gotten it over with… but when have you guys ever known me to say only five words when several hundred will suffice?
So, I say “ok, see the thing is… I had this like… ingrown hair. So, I was talking to Jennifer and we sort of thought that it would be a good idea to just… shave it all… since that might help… but, the thing is now that it is all gone. And… um… I’ve never done that before, so I’m kind of weird about it.”
He is just looking at me like that’s it? And kind of doing that thing where you are just waiting to see if the other person is done so you can move on. But, was I done? No siree.
“Ok, and I am pretty uncomfortable with all of this so if you could kind of not make a big deal out of it then I would really appreciate it.”
I would have went on you know? I would have made sure to clarify that later on I would like to know the effect this particular aspect had on the outcome (sorry, lol – no pun, lmao) of the entire evening. But, that was pretty much shot to hell because I think he was just done waiting.

Since that night, I have spoken to two other girl friends who thought my entire little episode was rather hilarious. I have also been made privy to such things as what style to shave! STYLE! Are you fucking joking? Oh, no… apparently there is The Triangle, The Hitler and the one where you shave everything on the bottom, but leave the top. I am three for three! All three girls I spoke to about this couldn’t believe I wasn’t in their little Bald Club. That is the only reason I am blogging about this because this was officially the first time I was too embarrassed to post about something on here. But, knowing that I am apparently odd for not doing this regularly has made it a lot easier.
So spill it people. Give up your secret shaving stories.

Who Pays?

Twice over the weekend I had a conversation with two single friends about who pays for meet-ups vs. dates vs. ongoing relationships.

Let’s get this out of the way:

  • I don’t think there is a correct answer
  • I’m a feminist
  • I have money issues (usually with people who have more than I do)

So knowing all this and knowing that dating in 2016 isn’t what it was 30 years ago. We’re meeting online and then meeting in person. We’re not “dating” as “dating” was traditionally known. Women make more money then they ever have. They can pay their own way and some don’t like feeling “bought”. And you never know if there’s going to be a spark until you meet in person.

When you meet someone online you might agree for a coffee or drink or even dinner right off the bat. I think if it’s a coffee or a drink, it’s fair – you can pick up, he can pick up, or you get separate cheques. I don’t think there should be any expectation for anyone to pick-up the bill on a first-meet. It gets a little trickier for dinner, which is why I try and avoid that for a first-meet. My friends agreed that if they weren’t interested in seeing the gentleman again they would insist on splitting the bill or paying for it 100%. I’d be less inclined to pay 100% but would be happy to split evenly – working out to the penny is so tacky.

For second dates and beyond it gets a little trickier. I don’t think that any man in 2016 thinks that if he pays the dinner bill he’s going to get lucky (and I’ll make sure he understands this clearly¬†if its even hinted at). I always expect to pay half when I go out to dinner with someone new, my reach for my wallet is not a coy attempt at him insisting on paying. But if he insists heartfully¬†then I’ll go with it. Often I’ve dated men that make significantly more then I do and for them treating me for dinner is their way of sharing their successfulness. They can’t/won’t go out and slay a deer for me to show they can provide – so they buy me dinner instead. This is where I can get a little uncomfortable – I’m a woman with a great job and my own money… so if they won’t allow me to buy dinner once in a while, then I’ll cook for them – wine, appies, dinner, dessert in my home.

In longer term relationships its always kind of gone in a you pay sometimes, I pay sometimes and it will all equal out in the end. The exception being my last major relationship where I was paying 100% for everything… because he was spending $900 in online gaming and porn… but that’s another story..

One of my friends dates had said he’s got a 60/40 rule – he’ll pay for 60% of drinks/dinner and expects his date to pay 40%… I have no idea where this calculation came from – but it feels offensive!

What are your thoughts on who pays for a first-meet vs. a first date vs. ongoing relationship?


When the stars align and come crashing down around you… (or Dating in the City)

I’ve been back on a couple of sites to try and expand my network of available men (i.e. online-dating sites or as I refer to them: online-introduction sites). I met a guy a week ago – let’s call him B – on a popular site. Smart, fun, great job, seemed happy. We agreed to meet for a coffee and set up a meet up not far from my house. I walked down to meet him, he texted to say he would be a tad late due to traffic, but immediately on arriving he told me he spilled something on his shirt and went to a store to get a new one! Which, I thought, was so incredibly adorable! Aside from being adorable, he ¬†had lovely eyes, with a perfect crinkle when he smiled, he was funny! Omg so funny! And we sparked – I felt it instantly, he told me later he felt it too. We ended up walking down to the beach and walked for 2 hours – walking and talking and trading stories and laughing and questioning… it was just amazing.

We sat down on a bench facing the water and then it came…the boom I was waiting on… he recently lost his wife, the mother of his children, the woman he had been with most of his adult life… I asked him how recently… he told me. Five months. Five months after a long illness.

We didn’t get into the details…

We walked more, he told me that he had recently reached out to a friend and told him he was ready… and then, out with me, he told me he realized he wasn’t ready at all.

My heart cracked just a little. I knew he wasn’t ready – I don’t typically date men who haven’t been separated for at least a year, let alone a man who had lost his wife only 5 months before. The crack came for two reasons:

  1. he was lovely, and amazing, and sweet, and kind, and attractive and we had that !spark! which is so rare! And I lost him before I even had a chance to have him…
  2. and because he has had so much to deal with, and I can imagine how lonely he is, has been, as he gone through all he’s gone through.

And for those two reasons I reached out after our amazing date and told him I had a great time, I like him and I hoped that he would reach out when he is ready.

And I went back to my online-introduction websites…