Hair today

Dear Dategirl,

My girlfriend doesn't care about her bikini line, and I don't know how to tell her that it bothers me. I mean, I like her, but I'm not too crazy about the old-school style, if you know what I mean.

Grossed Out

Dear G.O.,

You, my friend, have to realize that women are not by nature the hairless creatures that populate nudie mags and porno flicks. We have hairs—some of them in places we'd rather not have them. My friend Steven and I were having dinner with another girlfriend of mine, when he told us he had something really shocking and disgusting to tell us. Immediately all ears, we braced ourselves.

"I was making out with this girl, and she had . . . ," he stammered, a queasy look on his face.

"A third nipple?" Gretchen suggested helpfully.

"An oozing sore?" I implored.

He swallowed hard and spat it out. "She had a hair growing out of her breast—right by her nipple!"

We sank back in our seats, sorely disappointed. "Big deal," Gretchen bitched, grabbing another piece of bread out of the basket. Boy, did he blanch when we told him that nipple hairs weren't exactly uncommon, he just hadn't come across any before because most girls give 'em a tweeze. Looking unconvinced, he suggested we order. More than once, I caught him furtively glancing at our knockers. I'm sure he was imagining big furry tufts lurking under our bras.

I have an acquaintance who refuses to trim the bush. Normally, I wouldn't be able to ascertain this kind of info about a pal, but I was forced to confront it when we went to the beach together. As she stripped down to her swimsuit, I was horrified to note that it appeared she'd stuffed a redheaded Hasid in her crotch. Big clouds of gnarly orange hair billowed down almost to her knees! Nasty!

As I didn't really like her that much to begin with, I didn't say anything. I just tried not to look and was silent in my skeeve, which was appropriate for the situation. But you're talking about your girlfriend. You're supposed to be hot and bothered over her, so you should say something if you're grossed out. But be sensitive—being the teensiest bit hirsute myself, I can tell you that it's a touchy topic if handled clumsily. I was at the mall with the Sociopath one day, when he abruptly stopped talking to stare hard at my upper lip.

"That's not what I think it is, is it?" he bellowed at top volume, pointing a stubby little finger at what I had formerly considered a faint hint of a mustache. People turned to see what horror he had unearthed right there in front of the Gap.

I turned crimson and quickly covered my mouth with my hand. "What?" I muttered through my fingers.

"You have a mustache!" he howled. He then went on to tell me how grossed out he was, and how I'd best get rid of it, and not by bleaching either—I'd have to wax it, shave it, or electrolysize it, because he couldn't go out with a girl with facial hair even if it were blond and invisible. He'd know it was there.

I was completely mortified and ended up being bullied into waxing the thing, which, because I'm pale as a piece of paper, resulted in a bright red blistering scab where my skin and a couple pale hairs had once innocently been.

My buddy Dean handled a similar situation with far more grace. He was dating a girl he really liked, but her entire ass was covered with a thick pelt of coarse black hair. He likened fucking her to having sex with a chimp, and as a result, his performance understandably suffered. After much deliberation (and many desperate phone convos with yours truly), he sat her down and gently told her of his dilemma. While he was explaining, he presented her with a gift certificate to an upscale salon that specialized in the waxing of delicate areas. Then he went beyond the call of duty and volunteered to get waxed along with her. Ouch! But now he gets hot monkey love without a handful of hot monkey fur.

So you see, a little tact goes a long way. I'm just hoping you aren't after her to bald the beaver completely, because that's just disturbing. Yeah, I know lots of people find it hot, but there's something disconcerting about a grown woman sporting the twat of a 10-year-old.

Hairy problem? Write Dategirl at or Dategirl, c/o Seattle Weekly, 1008 Western, Ste. 300, Seattle, WA 98104.

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