As told to Kristina Grish
Photo Credit: Lev Dolgatshjov/iStock Images
Liza, 27, writer: Max got home from work, and we had yet another argument about our sex life. I want it more than he does, and he seems to view it as a chore. When he sat on the couch, I started kissing his neck.
Max, 30, financial exec and DJ: After a particularly grueling day, I walked into our small apartment. Two minutes didn't transpire before Liza tried to make out with me. Zero interest on my end; I didn't have a chance to get comfortable, and I still had work to do.
Liza: Around 11:40 p.m., we cuddled and flirted in bed. I tried to crawl on top of him, but he pushed me off and grumbled about needing to sleep.
Max: Liza started to get frisky, and I might have gone for it, had she not tried to jam my finger through her pubic thicket. She's always had a little 'fro, but this time she'd cultivated a real Chia.
Liza: I've scheduled a Brazilian bikini wax for tomorrow-my first ever-so maybe that will help spice things up.
Liza: My Brazilian torture left me with the perfect landing strip. Max came home, and I asked him if he wanted to see my new look. He had the nerve to say, "Sure, but later!" Huh?
Max: I got home from work, and the first thing I heard was, "Hey, I got a Brazilian bikini wax. Wanna see?" Did I ever, but again, not the first exact second I walked into the apartment.
Liza: That night Max started touching me in bed and was loving the new, hairless me. But I was exhausted.
Max: When Liza got in bed, I was overcome by the desire to check out her new look. It reminded me of fresh chicken fillets-little cutlets under a wisp of symbolic hair to avoid associations with 11-year-old girls. I got excited, but she was tired.