Being that I’m an amateur history buff I feel quite strongly that this topic has been grossly under-reported. Being that personal groin hygiene and maintenance is largely a phenomenon of the past 2 decades, I have to imagine the crotch of 1311 was a house of horrors. If you were a young lass of questionable virtue who decided to go down on the knob of a local boy, who had presumably been out carrying rocks to and fro and trying to avoid the plague all day, how would you stifle the stench of onion pube long enough to finish your task? You must recall there was no running water indoors, no morning shower, and to fill a copper tub with fire-heated water being such a Herculean task that it was done but a couple times a year. There were no beard trimming clippers either, so the pube jungle must have been truly breathtaking. And imagine, if you will, you are a randy young country squire attending the Autumn Harvest Lute Dance and get very friendly with a fair maiden on the dance hay during a particularly riveting rendition of “Please Forest Goblins, Don’t Steal and Feast on my Baby”. You decide to retire to the high weeds for some unprotected sex, but before you set to business you realize you’ve “got to lick it, before you stick it”. Unbeknownst to you our fair maiden has not retired to the babbling brook for a wash-up in more than a fortnight, in addition to a rather yeasty parade through Tuna Town. As you remove the course woolen undergarment of your quarry you are punched directly in the nose by the iron fist of unkempt snatch. What do you do? There is no manual on how to proceed if the wizard’s sleeve is full of Limburger cheese.
I heard Gore Vidal was planning to script a tome on this very subject, but he’s too old. It is history’s great loss that he is unable to do so. We must all be thankful that we live in the golden age of crotch upkeep.