Where have all the hairy men gone?

‘My friend hasn’t slept with a man with pubic hair for over five years,’ my mate Fiona says over lunch.

It’s enough to make a boring married gal like me gag on her ham and cheese toastie.

Casting my mind back to my dating days, only one of my lovers used his Gillette five blade on his gonads. While at the time it occurred to me that it gave a whole new meaning to the phrase ‘lubricating strip’, I just figured he was a bit odd and left it at that. I would have given him more credit if I’d realised that he was a trailblazer for the Manscaping Movement currently infiltrating our bedrooms.

A girl like me, born in the 1970s when VFL footballers like Robert “Dipper” DiPierdomenico defended Hawthorn’s midfield with their chest hair, could not have foreseen that our men would be ordering a ‘brozillian’ with the same ease as a pie with sauce. Or, to use the terminology for the epilation of the male buttocks, testicles and shaft from some of our more refined establishments, an ‘intimate wax’.

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