I don’t know what ‘dry spell’ means to you, but to me it means that no one has seen me naked or halfway nudie in quite a while (sexual activity aside). I realized I was smack dab in the middle of such a dry spell as I contemplated putting a bathing suit on last weekend to take a dip in a hot tub with some ladies. I was quite horrified to realize that I had hairy armpits. And not actually horrified about the hair, but that it quite simply hadn’t crossed my mind to shave…in weeks…not even a blip on the radar. So I apologized to the ladies and hot tubed it anyway. But it gets worse. Days later I am at the gym lifting weights on the eliptical (oh yes there is skill in this) and realized once again that the desire or memory to shave had eluded me. So, sorry dudes, take a gander…hairy pits and down, hairy pits and down. So, do I go home and shave? No. I do not. A few more days go by and I go to an annual exam (ladies, you know what this entails).. I raise my arm and there is it again, hair. Taken back a bit, like remembering something unpleasant you had tried to forget, I made a little awkward joke. My lady doc laughed it off saying, “oh yeah, you know how that really bugs me.” Now I don’t have buckwheat in a head lock or anything. At my hairest point, I am not that hairy at all (picture the beginning of Adam’s caucasian-asian beard) but what slightly torments me is that after three different, semi-public situations in which I was at least a little embarrassed each time, I was never motivated to shave. So after a week of knowing I have hairy armpits, forgetting – or not caring — I go for a run in my hood and bump into my super-hot neighbor. Damien. I go straight home, shower and shave not only the underarms but legs too! The neighbor has a live-in girlfriend I’m pretty sure, but god bless him for lighting the fire again…