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I got divorced at 67 and had my first intimate encounter in 30 years only to have him politely ask if I could "trim down there" because it would help him "get in there better." I'm 68 years old now. And that moment—9:42 PM on a Saturday night six months ago—was the most mortifying experience of my life. We'd been dating for three weeks. Richard. 69. Divorced five years ago. Kind. Funny. Patient with me. Patient with the fact that I hadn't been intimate with anyone except my ex-husband since 1989. That night, things progressed. For the first time in three decades, I was with someone new. And then he stopped. Pulled back slightly. Looked at me with this careful expression. "Margaret, can I ask you something?" My heart was pounding. "Okay." "Would you mind... trimming? Down there? It would really help me... you know... get in there better." I wanted to disappear. To evaporate. To rewind time and never agree to this date. "I'm sorry," I whispered. "I didn't know... I mean, I thought..." "It's okay," he said quickly. "It's not a big deal. I just thought... well, most women our age kind of keep it maintained." Most women our age. Most women. Not me. Just everyone else. I got dressed. Made an excuse. Left. Sat in my car in his driveway for fifteen minutes before I could drive. I was 67 years old. I'd been married for 28 years. The last time I'd been with someone new, it was 1989. I had no idea what modern expectations were. I called my friend Laura at 10:47 PM. She'd been divorced for five years. She was dating. She would know. "Laura, I need to ask you something and I'm absolutely humiliated." "What happened?" I told her everything. The date. The intimate moment. His polite request. Silence on the other end. Then she started laughing. Not mean laughing. Sympathetic laughing. "Oh honey. Oh Margaret. You went completely natural?" "Was I not supposed to?" "No. God, no. Not in modern dating. We're not in our marriages in the 80s anymore." I felt tears starting. "But we're in our 60s. I thought men our age would be used to—" "Margaret, men our age have been dating younger women. Or women who know what modern expectations are. Nobody our age goes natural anymore. I thought you'd figured that out." "I've been divorced six months. How was I supposed to figure that out?" Laura's voice got softer. "I'm sorry. I should have told you. We all should have told you. Can I come over?" She arrived thirty minutes later. We sat in my living room. I was still crying. "I felt so stupid," I said. "He was so polite about it. But I could tell he was surprised. Like he couldn't believe I didn't know." "Because most women do know. It's just... normal now. We talk about it. We handle it. We don't think twice about it." "What do you do?" "Hair removal cream. On everything. Legs, underarms, bikini area—everything. Takes 8 minutes. Smooth for weeks. That's what everyone does now." "Everyone?" "All eight women in my divorce support group. We're all dating. We all use cream. We figured it out within months of being back in the dating world. You're six months in. How did nobody tell you?" "I don't know." Laura pulled out her phone. "I'm texting the group right now. I'm telling them we failed you. Because we did." Within minutes, responses came back. "Oh my god, poor Margaret." "We should have told her." "I thought someone did." "We all just assumed she knew." Eight women. Ages 62 to 71. All divorced. All dating. All of them using hair removal cream. All of them assuming I knew. "Margaret, listen to me," Laura said. "This isn't your fault. You were married for 28 years. You got divorced and stepped into a completely different dating world. Nobody prepared you. That's on us. But I'm preparing you now." "What do I need to know?" "Men our age have different expectations than our husbands did in the 80s. They've seen modern porn. They've dated younger women who groom differently. They expect maintained. Not natural. It's just how dating is now." "But we're in our 60s—" "Exactly. We're in our 60s dating in 2024. Not in our 30s dating in 1985. The world changed. We have to adapt." "What do you use?" "Snatched. All of us in the group use it. It's made for women our age. Gentle. You just apply it with the little spoon it comes with. Wait 8 minutes. Wipe it off. Works everywhere. Legs, underarms, bikini area, everything." "It doesn't burn? Down there?" "It's gentler than a razor. And way better than the alternative—which is what just happened to you." I felt my face burn again. "I can't see him again. I'm too embarrassed." "Yes you can. You just handle it first. Then see him again. Trust me—he'll notice. He'll appreciate it. And you'll feel more confident." "I felt so unprepared. So behind." "You were behind. But now you're not. Now you know." That night I ordered Snatched. It arrived two days later. I sat in my bathroom. Stared at it for twenty minutes. This felt so foreign. So modern. So far removed from what I'd known in my 28-year marriage. But I opened it. There was a small spoon inside. Instructions: Apply with spoon. Wait 8 minutes. Wipe off. I applied it. Everywhere. Legs. Underarms. Bikini area. Set my timer. Eight minutes. I waited. Hands shaking. Not from the product. From nerves. From the realization that I was adapting to a world I didn't understand six months ago. The timer went off. I wiped it off. Everything was smooth. Completely smooth. I stood there looking in the mirror. This was what modern dating required. This was what everyone else had been doing. I called Laura. "I did it." "How do you feel?" "Cleaner. Honestly. Sexier, maybe. I don't know." "That's how we all feel. That's why we do it. Not just for men. For ourselves. It feels better." Week three: Still smooth. I texted Richard. "Can we try again?" He responded immediately: "I'd love to." We went to dinner. Went back to his place. This time was different. This time I was confident. This time I wasn't worried. And afterward, he held me and whispered: "That was perfect." He didn't have to say what was different. We both knew. I called Laura the next morning. "It was so different. I felt so much more confident." "Because you were prepared. Because you knew what to expect. Because you weren't walking in blind." "I wish someone had told me six months ago." "I know. We all wish we'd told you. But you know now. And that's what matters." My divorce support group had a meeting last week. All eight women there. All dating. All using cream. "We're sorry we didn't tell you sooner," they said. "It's okay. I know now." "How's Richard?" "Good. Really good. I'm seeing him this weekend." They all smiled. Because they all understood. They'd all navigated this same transition from long marriages to modern dating. They'd all figured out what modern expectations were. I was just the last one to know. I don't know how many other women are getting divorced in their 60s and stepping into the dating world completely unprepared. Still thinking grooming expectations from the 80s apply now. Still going natural because that's what they did in their marriages. I was one of them six months ago. I had the most mortifying intimate moment of my life because I didn't know what everyone else already knew. I'm not saying this will work for everyone. But if you're reading this late at night, recently divorced, dating again, wondering what modern expectations are and feeling completely lost— You're not alone. You're just navigating a world that changed while you were married. Like I was. There's a reason divorced women our age feel confident dating. A reason they're prepared for intimate moments. A reason they don't get surprised by requests to "trim." They adapted to the modern dating world. And once you do too, you'll finally feel confident instead of mortified.