Tobey* was the perfect guy to date right after my divorce. He was cute, fun, and had a body like a gymnast. He was younger than I was, but not too young. He liked the same things I did: eating good food, going to the movies, and strolling around Manhattan. He was a great kisser and even better in the sack.
Then he told me I needed grooming.
Not just any grooming. Down there grooming. The Frisky: The Hair Down There
We had met at a speed dating event. I didn't notice anything special about him at first. Our three-minute conversation was a blur. I told him about the novel I was writing; he told me how he had just quit his job to go to school full-time. But as I moved on to my next partner, who for several seconds said nothing and stared at his hands, I caught Tobey's eye, and he smiled. Suddenly he was cute.
The next morning I was happy to open my email and find that we were a match.
On our first date we ended up making out in a bar on the Lower East Side. Our second date I invited him up to my apartment. Maybe I was moving too fast, but I didn't care. After a tough breakup, I wanted to let my hair down. The Frisky: Manscaping—What Are Your Grooming Dealbreakers?
Which, I discovered over the next few weeks, wasn't Tobey's thing. In all the times we got busy, he had ventured south maybe twice.
I didn't care too much. After all, we were just beginning to know each other. One night I mentioned it jokingly, and he said, "I don't mind doing that at all. If a woman is well-groomed."
I sat up. Well-groomed, as opposed to, say, me? The Frisky: Real Life Relationship Dealbreakers
"I don't mean bald," he said, as though that would clarify things. "Just—well-groomed."
If you haven't already noticed, I'm Chinese, which means, genetically, I'm not that hairy. I definitely have hair. I'm a healthy, full-grown woman, not a 12-year old girl, but I'm not exactly hirsute. So if Tobey didn't mean "bald," then what did he mean? The Frisky: MERRIme, A New Web Comedy About Online Dating