The Porn Star

I can’t help sniggering and yet cringing as I write this. 

The beauty of a blog is that as far as 99% of the world is concerned, I am totally mysterious; nameless.  Still, there are those that know me well and to those, I have sent a link.  This includes my family and the squeeze.  Perhaps I didn’t put enough thought into how limiting that may be.

Still, I suspect that the chance that someone religiously reads my blog is slim.  Except the squeeze – he reads them with utter glee, astonishingly proud of how I have portrayed him.  Go figure…  It fits nicely with exactly what I have said about him, doesn’t it?

How could being called an emotional husk even come close to a compliment?  He actually laughed out loud when he read about the ‘little book of romance’.

Well today, I can almost picture the grin slithering from his face.  Today, we are talking about pubic hair.  His pubic hair.  I know… I know…  Crass.  But hell, things have been pretty good between us of late and I have to write about something.

Pretty good, I should clarify, means that nothing is leaping out of closets at me.  I’m not Rubik’s cubing every word and he isn’t receiving 3000 word emails about what a dick he is.  We are familiar, used to one another.  Sounds boring, doesn’t it?  And in a way, I expect it does have a vibe of “normalcy” about it.  Usually, this is not a good thing for me.  The three ex-husbands would attest to that.

If I have learned anything at all after having three husbands, it is that you have to think outside the square.  You have to make an effort.  You have to keep making an effort; add a little spontaneity…  If not, it doesn’t work.  Or at least, it doesn’t last.  And men are deplorable at romance; at keeping it alive.  At least mine is.

The squeeze has a damned good head of hair, and hardly any grey.  Not bad considering he is 56.  Nor is he an exceptionally hairy man; unlike my brother in law who looks like Huggy Bear when walking around shirtless – except he is not wearing a fur coat.

The squeeze has no chest hair and no back hair; none at all; all good.  Tick.  A1.  There is only one problem.  He has more pubic hair than should be permitted in the western world.  It is literally creeping up out of his shorts.  We are not talking curls either.  We are talking wire.

Ok, I can get the idea that waxing may actually make his heart give out.  Not that I wouldn’t do that for him…  Not that I don’t love him enough to just rip that patch right off.  I’ve told him I would do it; quickly – but he won’t even give that a go.  So much for love.

Shaving – too itchy.  So I buy him a hair trimmer and figure that at the very least, he could give it a tidy!  But no.  The trimmer is still in the box, sitting up there on the top of the record shelves.  Mocking me.

If I knew how to set up voting on here – I would. 

Am I alone in my desire to see the Porn Star look make a comeback?