What would you do for a Klondike bar?

I'm not always one to ask for help, but lately I've been trying to take it when it's offered.
So earlier this week when the man, the myth, the legend, Bachelor #8, said he would be willing to trim my bush, I jumped at the offer.
He came over last night and I showed him my bush, he said it may take a couple of hours to take care of it.
I supplied him with the necessary equipment to handle my bush, but he did not accept the offer of gloves, personally I was a bit worried he would get a blister...
He got right to work, and before you know a layer of filth had overtaken him and the sweat glistened off his brow.
This was no laughing matter, my bush needed major help.
I was a bit uneasy when he thought about giving my bush to his friend, but he quickly discarded that idea when he discovered it was rotten in places and there was a large family of bugs housed within.
I watched while he worked, muscles bulging, determined to rid my life of this ragged monstrosity I called my bush. At times I wondered if he wanted it gone more than I did...
He emerged victoriously about 90 minutes later, beat down, a shell of a man; the tears swelled in my eyes.
My bush was gone, as if it never existed.

Thank you Bachelor #8, thank you.