There's a reason I swore off boyfriends for a year or two or the rest of my life: they take a lot of effort. My legs have never been so consistently shaved, and I now have a standing waxing appointment. I did this stuff pre-boyfriend, surely, but if I'm being honest, it was only so that when I finally got around to dating, I wouldn't be the sort of girl who puts on pretty underwear just for a guy.
That's even worse, though, because I wasn't adhering to inconvenient beauty regimes for myself. I was doing it for the idea of someone else, which is, of course, my ultimate problem: I so much prefer the life I live in my head that I forget how to live in reality.