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I'll tell you one thing I love about women, and it's their showers. Specifically, the fancy pants showering products they buy that, as a man, I would never think of buying, much less be seen purchasing. I'm a man, and spend most of my time shopping in the meat, pants, and chainsaw aisles of grocery and department stores.
Every woman whose place I've showered at has always had an amazing collection of shampoos, conditioners, oils, body washes, and other rejuvenating goops. These forests of bottles always sit in the back of the shower, and the ingredients sound like the contents of a high-end fruit basket. Shampoos and conditioners featuring kiwi, avocado, citrus, and pomegranate. Some smelled like lavender. Others smelled like the ocean. Still others smelled like vanilla cupcakes. Vanilla cupcakes! Better living through chemistry, indeed. I suppose it takes a lot of science to give human hair such unnatural body, bounce, and glowing sheen, not to mention the aroma of foodstuffs.
At various times, I have suggested we stay over at a woman's place, just so I could have access to her hair products. I have liked shampoos more than the women I've dated who've owned them.
I have a man's shower. In my shower is a bar of soap and a bottle of shampoo. Both the soap and the shampoo are generic brands. That's all I have in my shower, and I'm happy with it that way. I don't have a hand towel, nor do I have a loofa. I use my strong, lumberjack-like hands to scrub away the soot and sod from my day's toils. I like my soap to smell like "clean" and my shampoo to lather up enough that I can work my hair into a sudsy mohawk.
Men are much more results-oriented when it comes to cleaning products and domestic tools. This explains why most guys have only one plate, and one set of utensils. We need stuff that gets stuff done. I can't eat spaghetti on my lap, therefore I need a plate. Regular toilet paper does the job, I don't need toilet paper sheets that look like tiny versions of quilts my grandma would sew. Soap is supposed to make me not smell like cold genital gravy. This is one truth.
There's the other truth as well: it's a damn treat to use a woman's shower. Since I'm not actually spending money on frivolous fluids that smell like flowers, then my masculinity isn't compromised. I worked a long day. I'm at my woman's place. I'm going to shower. I will use the soaps provided. And secretly enjoy them. I even allow myself to use whatever bizarre little scrubby thing is there.
I love how women spoil themselves. How they can turn something as utilitarian as a shower into a momentary, steamy escape where everything smells super pretty, pretty. It teaches a valuable lesson: that it is your responsibility to enjoy little things. That it is possible to turn a chore into a vacation from worry. Without women, our world would certainly smell more like ass.
I'm not saying I'm going to go out and shell out a small fortune so that my shower can stink like a dessert tray. But I will take an extra long shower at her house, and I will use conditioner. Whatever the hell "conditioner" is. It's like shampoo, right? Oh who cares, it smells like springtime! Women's hair care is full of such wonders, like aloe. Aloe is to shampoo what nougat is to chocolate bars: no one knows exactly what it is, but consumers like it anyway.
The way I feel about a woman's shower is the same way I feel about a woman's pillows. Do they have separate stores where women buy their pillows? Because mine are like little charcoal briquettes compared to a chick's -- which are soft, fluffy, and somewhere between "clouds" and "marshmallows."