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Marissa’s Story: Hair

The bathroom floor is covered with hair. With each stroke I see the hair droppings fall to the tile. How did I get here? I think of guys from my past that didn’t work out: gay guys, lazy guys, cheaters, and drug addicts. I believed by the time I was 30 that I’d meet that perfect guy, the one that would sweep me off my feet, but in a year I will turn that age and there I was in the bathroom of my boyfriend, Tim’s, townhouse, shaving his back.

It was an odd request, sitting here on his couch watching television, having a few drinks. It was probably the last thing I expected to come out of Tim’s mouth in fact; who asks their girlfriend to shave them anyway?! Sure, we cared about each other, but was this really my responsibility? I could see watering his plants or feeding the fish while he was out of town or something, but never expected this favor to be asked of me. Strangely enough, I agreed to his request and there we were in his bathroom, shaving his overgrown, tangled mess of his thick, coarse, black back hair.

Now I must say I am not one to be tolerant of guys and their flaws. Being a lot like the female version of Seinfeld, I can always find something that is not quite right with guys I date; whether it be their abnormal hairy moles, flabby bellies, or slight lisps, that’s the end of it for me. For some reason, though, this shaving adventure was one I agreed to and thought I could handle. For a second I was convinced that this meant he was definitely “the one”. I thought for this very brief, fleeting moment that I had been wasting my time all these years with all the other smooth, hairless backed guys of the world only to realize that hairy beast was the guy for me. It turns out you never look at someone the same after you shave their backs. Believe me, I am not one at all to give advice on guys, but can give advice in the area of shaving your boyfriend’s back (or anyone’s back for that matter): just say no.

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