Manscaping…and Other Party Conversations

5 07 2011

Fireworks from Gasworks Park

Happy Belated 4th of July everyone! I hope everyone had a great weekend.

Today, I am being featured in the Simply Solo Spotlight. After you read this post, go check out my guest post over there. Thank you to everyone who participated in the Guest Blogging Poll.  “ My Mom Posts a Profile for Me” had won when I checked the results on Saturday.

My more conservative readers should be forewarned. Today I will be covering some topics a little more risqué than my usual banter. Cover your eyes, wait for a couple of days when I will be providing a recap of my date with Man #19, or proceed with caution.  Your choice. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.

So this is what my life has come to:

For many years, Fourth of July meant driving down to the reservation to buy some fireworks, hosting barbeques in the backyard,  shooting previously mentioned fireworks off with the kids, and hoping nothing caught on fire.  When we moved to Seattle in 2003, we started heading down to Gasworks Park with a picnic and watching Seattle’s annual fireworks display.  This year, with one son on a trip with his grandparents, one in college, and another teenager son too cool to hang out with me, I thought I may end up watching the fireworks on television while eating lentil soup.  Pathetic.

I scored a last-minute save, however, by attending the birthday party for my friend, Dora, on Sunday, and meeting a fabulous gay couple who invited me to their annual 4th of July party.  (Actually, Dora invited me, by saying that I should go with her, and the gay couple agreed.)  That was that.

Now, I’ve been hearing about this party for the past five years, but I was never able to go because of the family obligations mentioned above.  I jumped at this chance.  Not only have I attended far too few parties this year, but this party is rumored to be FABULOUS on top of boasting great views of the fireworks on Lake Union.

Dora swung by my house to pick me up last night around 7:30 p.m. and we headed over to the party.  She said, “You’re going to fit right in. There are so many different people there.  It’s like the whole gay community is there. They have people in their house they don’t even know.”

I usually don’t worry about not knowing people. If I know at least one person, I’m fine.  I’m not particularly shy, and gay boys tend to love me.  Maybe it’s my eye makeup. Maybe it’s my shoes. Maybe it’s the fact that I have a slight potty mouth. Maybe it’s that with my low, alto voice and the fact that I stand 6′-2″ in heels I remind them of a drag queen. I don’t know, but I tend to quickly make friends with the gay boys.  I wasn’t worried at all about not knowing anybody.

When we arrived, the house was packed. Dora and I made our way out to the terrace where we found a couple of other friends of Dora’s.  We sat together, ate, drank, and visited until it was time to go outside to watch the fireworks. 

The fireworks were good. I heard some people commenting that they weren’t as good as years past, but I’m never one to enter into such debates. I enjoy public displays of fireworks, and to tell you the honest truth, I usually can’t tell the difference from one year to the next. Personally, I’m just glad I no longer have to worry about grabbing the garden hose or ducking for cover should a home-launched explosive go astray.

A few of us talked about which fireworks we liked best, and expressed the usual sound effects, “Oooo, Aaaagh,” and “Pretty!”

When the fireworks finished we headed back inside and Dora and her friends headed back to the terrace.  Having surpassed my one drink a week limit, (I had two) I was looking for something non-alcoholic to drink, and rumor had it that I would find something in a cooler that was situated at the north end of the terrace.  As I approached the cooler, I heard a young guy talking to an older guy and I quickly realized that I might have just stumbled upon two of a small minority of straight men at the party.  The young guy was saying to the older guy, “You gotta shave that shit, man.”


“Yeah, it doesn’t matter if it’s a man or a woman, I don’t like to go down on anyone who’s not shaved.” (Ok, maybe bisexual men.)

At this point, I couldn’t help actually looking at them, and I realized it might be the most interesting conversation I would have all night.

“Are you talking about manscaping?” I asked.

“Yeah,” said the young guy, “What do you think?”

“You need to shave that shit, man, or at least keep it tidy,” I exclaimed, looking at the older man who was about my age, and adding my two cents.

“See, I told you,” said the young one, obviously drunk and obviously relishing the fact that he was right.

“Like shave all of it?” the older guy asked.

“Well, you don’t have to make yourself look pre-pubescent, but you should keep it tidy,” I said.

It was at this point that the young guy divulged that he was shaved from his torso all the way down to his balls.

“Here, check it out,” he said, pulling his shirt out at the bottom, inviting my to feel his chest.

I reached up  underneath his shirt, felt his abs, and both pecs, checking for any piercings and any trace of hair. None.

“Oh, geez!” grumbled the older one.

“Is that stubble, or do you need to exfoliate?” I asked.


I removed my hand from the boy’s chest, and turned to the older one, “It’s just more pleasant if there isn’t a bunch of hair down there to deal with. Plus a guy can make his dick look longer if he simply gets rid of the half-inch of nappy pile at the base of it.”

“Well, I don’t need to make my dick look bigger,” exclaimed the young one, “I just don’t want to put a girl through that, going down there with a bunch of hair. It gets in your mouth.”

“Well, not only that, but hair traps smells.  If a guy has hair and he’s wondering why he’s not getting blow jobs, maybe he needs to question how it smells down there.,” I said.

“I think things were different in the 80s,” said the older guy, “I always thought the perception was that if you shaved you weren’t as manly.”

“Well, I think you’re right, that hair wasn’t as big a deal back then, but it is now. I like a little chest hair, but you have to keep it under control,” I said.

Sensing that I might be closer to the older guy’s age than his own, the younger one suddenly asked me how old I was. (This younger generation and their manners! I tell ya!)

“Well, I have a 23-year-old son in college,” I said.

“Get the fuck out of here! You look like you’re about thirty-four!”

“Thank you.”

This launched the younger one to reveal that he was 24, his mom was 47, and he had been with two women older than his mother, one 48, the other 49.

“I struggle with the age thing,” I said, “I’m recently separated and I just can’t see going out with anyone younger than about 35.”

“Well, if you’re recently separated, you SHOULD go out with someone under 35,” exclaimed the older one.

“I just don’t know that a young guy would know what he was doing.”

This was the WRONG thing to say. The younger one suddenly went on a diatribe about how he had been with these older women. It was all about foreplay, and he knew how to do that and other things. There were some finger movements to illustrate his technique and he was REALLY selling it.

“You’re right about foreplay,” I said.  He started talking about going down on a woman, and although I’m not ready to turn my blog x-rated, I will say that he almost had me convinced that he might know what he was talking about.

“Have you ever seen Nina Hartley’s How to Eat Pussy Like a Champ,” I asked.

He had not.

“Well if there is one take away from that instructional video, it’s this: Licking sucks. Sucking rocks.”

“Really?” said the older one. He was quickly making himself look like a completely bumbling, uninformed idiot.

“Yes,” I said, and I started to describe some of the mistakes men commonly make when travelling downtown.  (I won’t bore you with the details.)

After a little while longer, I separated myself from the conversation, and went and found Dora. She and her friends were just about ready to walk back to the cars, so I ditched my glass of ice having never found my non-alcoholic drink and headed out with them.

I said goodbye to the hosts. They said that they thought I was FABULOUS and that we needed to hang out again sometime. I got home well after midnight, briefly took Thor out, and then Thor and I went to bed.

As intriguing as sexual experimentation with a 24-year-old may be, I’m not ready to go there.

For now, I’ll stick with the fireworks I know. Thank you very much.




33 responses

5 07 2011
Struggling Dad

Re: “I won’t bore you with the details”
Sure, juse leave out the most important part of the post!!

Also, now I’m wondering if I am (down there) tidy, a little scruffy, or plain unkempt. It’s not like I have an easy way to judge!

Nevetheless, thanks for an interesting post!

6 07 2011

My girlfriends and I were discussing this some more over drinks last night, and most of us agreed that having things trimmed between 1/4″ and 1/2″ was perfectly acceptable. It’s like a haircut, a beard, or even lawn care. If you want to give the impression that you care about yourself and your home, you get the weed wacker out and knock things back a little. Same goes for “down there.”

If you want more details you’ll have to go watch Nina. As I was also explaining to my girlfriends last night, I know I have some conservative readers. (I’ve had conversations with some of them.) If I start moving in a more racey direction, it will need to be gradually.

6 07 2011

This was a baby step.

6 07 2011
Struggling Dad

The weed wacker … ouch! You make me hurt just thinking about it! 🙂

I’ll bet girls find something gentler, like a trimmer. Grrr…

Trust me on this, I’m going to need names and signatures before I head for 1/4″ – 1/2″ … it took a long time to grow that forest this long in the first place. Long. Hmm, I see what you mean… Hopefully there’s a compromise though. Maybe a less severe starting point before heading for a Marine-style ‘haircut’?

6 07 2011

Ah, there is nothing quite like the look on a man’s face when he knows he has totally satisfied “the woman” in every possible way! & Mr. older guy, the 80s or 70s were no different. Some men simply get their pleasure by pleasuring the woman they are with and wouldn’t have it any other way and some men just think of themselves.It isn’t an age, it’s the man! nuf said!

6 07 2011

I think foreplay has always been in style. It was hair we were referring to when we were talking about the 70s and 80s. There seemed to be more hair back then.

6 07 2011
Surrey gal

What a post! What a conversation!!
Yes, boys, trim it.
Maybe it would be good just to try it, with a 24year old? I’d imagine it’s great for building self esteem up 🙂

6 07 2011

Oh, here we go with the whole self-esteem thing again! I don’t know. It seems strange to me. The boy liked big breasts, which I have, but he seemed a little too cocky for me. (No pun intended.)

7 07 2011
Surrey gal

I think that they are either too cocky or too shy, those young boys. Maybe that’s why I haven’t tried yet. But come on, it must make you feel good if a guy your son’s age is telling you you are hot? 🙂

7 07 2011

It was an ego boost, and hearing that he thought I was in my early thirties was great too.

6 07 2011

You’re scaring me, SD. Baby steps. If it looks like ZZ Top down there, it might be time for a little maintenance.

6 07 2011
Struggling Dad

LOL! I have never ever, and I mean ever, had any hair visible from the legs of my jeans. So we’re not talking ZZ Top; I think we’re safe on that score. 🙂

6 07 2011

Whew! 🙂

6 07 2011

“baby steps”
“slight potty mouth”
I just love it when you go for understatement…

6 07 2011

I’m not going to give you the satisfaction of the original response that came to mind.

7 07 2011

Ok, here’s my perspective. I’m a 41 yo guy, and I started trimming down there when I was 22, mostly to keep it neat. Recently, I was dating a 33 year old woman, and discovered that she was shaving completely. That was pretty nice (and hot!). I ended up doing the same, and I think it looks fine. Don’t be scared of trimming!

7 07 2011

Yey! Bravo!

7 07 2011
Struggling Dad

Dammit, I’ve lost this argument. Where’s my weed wacker…

7 07 2011

I had to google up Nina’s video after your mention of it. Luckily, i don’t think I’ve been doing anything too terribly wrong. *phew*

7 07 2011

and hopefully you didn’t Google it at work. 🙂

10 07 2011
NKOTBSB…Not New, But Still Rockin’ « My Dating Prescription

[…] woman that I am, (I’m not dead) I will look, appreciate, and enjoy where I can, be it feeling up a twenty-something at a party to drooling over sexy abs at a […]

13 07 2011

You’re killing me. 🙂 I am snickering like a school girl at my desk. Reading along feeling like I am having a conversation WITH MYSELF!!

And for the record, after my separation before my divorce was final, I did stick my ummm…. toe in the under 25 pool. And it was delicious. Ahhh, the joys of a college town. It was not a good long term plan, granted, but it did kill some time and put a smile om my face.

Not to mention there was something kind of entertaining about sitting outside in the yard, hop scotching with the kids in the neighborhood when one particular young man would ride his bike by my apartment. I’d wave. And think, yup “Mama’s still got it.”

And stranger things can happen…. the 25 year old I went out with on a blind date with just for fun, to get over the “more responsible” but incredibly dull single dad I had been dating… he turned in to the 28 year old I married years later. 🙂

13 07 2011

Ok, I need to get over whatever is causing this hesitation with the twenty-somethings. I might need to dip my “ummm….toe” into the pool as you said. Besides, after only 18 dates, these forty-somethings are becoming awfullying boring.

13 07 2011

THe smile on my face was worth it. Really. 🙂 Good luck!!

14 07 2011

WOW, Dora said I had to read this, and omg… this was funny! See you soon!

14 07 2011

Glad you enjoyed it. See you soon.

17 08 2011
My Way Gay Weekend « My Dating Prescription

[…] that this kind of opportunity has presented itself to me.  You may recall my assessment of the hairless twenty-year-old on the Fourth of July.  Just as I had taken advantage of that opportunity when it occurred, I took […]

3 07 2012
Man #27, The Flavor Saver « My Dating Prescription

[…] also sported a flavor saver, sometimes also referred to as a soul patch.  Now, you may recall my discussion of body hair from almost a year ago.  To put it plainly, I’m not really a fan.  I have a low tolerance […]

26 07 2012
The Wandering Mind

I am from a similar school of thought as the 24 year old that you were chatting with at the party. Trim that shit. For both visual & um “tasteful” reasons, I think that shaving or trimming down south is very beneficial.

I’m not caught up on your blog, but why don’t you try a younger guy? Just for the experience, if you like it, good, if you don’t, oh well. I tend to be interested & attracted to older women. This is something that I’ve come to accept over the years, after dating younger girls (who bored me or drove me nuts), girls my age (filled with drama), and spending time with older women. Most of my friends are older than me, so it makes sense that I would be introduced to older women. So I have no problems being seen with an older, classier woman.

Thanks for following my blog & leaving that comment. I think men & women are “friends” for pretty much the same reasons. Although we can be friends because there is chemistry but little to no physical/sexual attraction. So you become that go to guy/chick for company, chatting or whatever it is that friends do when they’re NOT trying to get into each others pants. Whether designating that “friend” as their go to buddy for specific things is classified as “using” them is another story all together.

~ The Wandering Mind

26 07 2012

I know. Everyone keeps telling me I need to go there, but 13 years younger than me is as far as I’ve gotten, and it never went any farther than a first date. Long term, I’m just afraid we wouldn’t have anything to talk about. I’m probably wrong about that. Plus, I always think it looks pathetic when you see an older man with a much younger woman.

I have primarily avoided dating younger men out of respect for my sons. My eldest son is 23, and even when we go out to places, people look at us like I’m a cougar. Mostly, I think it would be weird for him if I introduced him to a guy I was dating and they were only a few years apart. That’s the biggest reason I haven’t gone for a younger guy.

26 07 2012
The Wandering Mind

I can understand that reasoning. The widest gap between myself & someone I’ve dated it about 15 years. We got along great & we have great chemistry, we just didn’t see where it was going long term. We are still great friends & we come to each other for advice or just for shits & giggles, & we still go out to dinner once in a while.

I haven’t dated any women that had children around my age, they either had no children or they were young. So I can see how that dating situation could seem odd for your Son if he sees you with a guy that is just a few years older than him. This type of dating scenario is only “pathetic” if they’re doing it to boost their own egos, otherwise it doesn’t really bother me.

The most common “compliment” I’ve received from older women that have shown commen interest, but have shyed away from pursuing anything is this: “Sometimes I need to be reminded how old you are. If you were # years older or I was # years younger we would definitely be compatible.”
So its not always about the maturity of the tenderoni, sometimes its just about the social stigma or family situation.

26 07 2012
Elder Baud

My future mother-in-law is 21 years younger than my fiancée and me. My future father-in-law is 21 years older than us. Oddly, they are very happily married and everyone believes that they are just right for each other. And *she* pursued *him*. So you just never know.

26 07 2012

Wow. I know. I know. I have to keep my mind open. It’s more likely that I would be with an older man than a younger one unless I’m just hoping to get my pipes cleaned. Then younger definitely has its advantages.

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