“Belle, it’s me,” the Beast says softly.

Struggling to recognize the Beast in his new human form, Belle looks deep into his eyes. “It is you.”

The Beast leans in to kiss Belle, but she turns away.

“What is it, Belle?” asks the Beast.

“What? Oh. Nothing,” Belle says, looking down. “It’s nothing.”

It’s not that the Beast has a face only a mother could love. In fact, Belle knows a ton of women for whom the transformed Beast would be their exact type. He’s built, broad, and tall. He somewhat looks like an all-American football player from the 1970s, which Belle can appreciate from an aesthetic perspective. It’s just that his new look isn’t what she had been expecting.

“I sort of have a type, I guess,” Belle shifts her weight. “Maybe it’s weird, but I like men who are hairy? It’s kind of a turn on for me and I’m now realizing that, given how you’ve looked since the day we met, I always assumed you’d transform into more of a Tom Selleck type.”

“I don’t know who that is,” the Beast says. “We don’t get cable in the castle.”

“Right, duh. Who’s a hairy man in literature?” Belle wonders aloud, remembering that the Beast could be rather pretentious when it came to TV. “You know that Esau guy from the Bible? The one who was so hairy that his dad confused him with the skin of a goat? Well, he’d be my type.”

“Oh. Well, I could try to grow a beard?” the Beast offers. “It’s just that it usually comes in kind of patchy. It’s sort of a peach-fuzz situation.”

“No, I’m sorry, Beast. I think I’m just tired. I barely slept last night. Or really for most nights since you kidnapped me.”

This is the first time Belle has referred to their initial encounter as a “kidnapping” for quite awhile. The Beast and Belle avoid eye contact. It’s pretty awkward.

It’s at this moment that Lumiere, Cogsworth, and Mrs. Potts wander over and Belle jumps at the opportunity to get back to celebrating their good curse-lifting news.

“Can you believe it?!” Belle shouts. “The curse is broken!”

“Mademoiselle, I thank you. And our Beast, he’s so handsome, no?” Lumiere winks at his friend.

“He really is.” Belle squeezes the Beast’s arm enthusiastically. “Cogsworth, I love your mustache.”

“Merci, mon cheri! Isn’t it enchanted?” Cogsworth exclaims.

“Yes! Enchanted!” Belle laughs loudly, and some might say too loudly given the fact that nobody has told a joke.

“You know, my dear, what’s important is on the inside.” Mrs. Potts says, holding a hand over her heart.

“I always say, ‘never judge a book by its cover,’” Belle agrees, trying to use her and the Beast’s shared love of reading to distract him from the last few minutes. Though what Belle has said is an outright lie, because Belle does judge books by their covers and once even organized her bookshelf by color.

But the Beast doesn’t know that, so he beams, “That’s exactly right!” Then he starts to go on about how his experience with the witch taught him that true beauty is found within, and how lucky he is to have learned this lesson, even if it was a painful experience. The Beast explains how beauty standards are actually culturally informed, except for some things like facial symmetry, which is somehow related to evolution, and blah blah blah.

Belle finds herself tuning him out. Has he always been this annoying? God, this guy sure talks a lot.

Belle nods along, saying things like, “Mm hmm, yeah, that’s such a good point” to make it seem like she’s still listening. Eventually, and who knows how much time has passed, Belle notices that the Beast has stopped lecturing and is staring at her to say something.

“You’re absolutely right, Beast,” Belle manages. “Such good points all around.”

“We’re so lucky,” the Beast smiles, his furless eyes getting misty.

Belle wants to agree with him, that the way someone looks on the outside shouldn’t matter. So what if she’s not entirely attracted to the Beast now that he is no longer a sexy buffalo-lion-crossbreed? Shouldn’t she still give him a chance?

Belle reaches for his hairless hand. “We really are.”

Later that night, Belle, having changed her mind, makes love with the Beast for the first time. It’s beautiful and romantic and full of passion. That is, until, the Beast guffaws at Belle’s full bush.

It turns out that the Beast is rather particular when it comes to the undercarriage hair care of his sexual partners. In fact, the Beast says that he can’t maintain an erection if Belle isn’t willing to shave it all off like a little girl, he says. Those are his exact words, “Like a little girl.”

Belle is appalled. But before she has the chance to explain the misogyny of demanding that women groom their privates exactly to a man’s specifications and how shocking it is to hear him degrade her in this way, the Beast says that, actually, he “doesn’t think this is going to work out after all” and asks Lumiere to call a carriage to take Belle home.

Because while beauty may come from within, when someone shows themselves to be self-involved, highly demanding, and hyper controlling for months on end, Belle concedes, it’s probably best to take them at face value.