The other day I was doing laundry and putting away my delicates. I was looking at the panty pile thinking, "Goddamn, I have a lot of panties" (I also once had a roommate who could not stand the word panties, so, PANTIES, PANTIES, PANTIES) and I took a minute to count them. Well, maybe more than a minute because I have 73 pairs of panties. I am like the rainbow coalition of panties - I have thongs, g-strings (yes, there is a difference), granny panties, boy shorts and every imaginable kind of undergarment to cover my lady business. I also have every kind of fabric and texture too. What can I say, I am a panty hoarder.
All of this got me thinking back to a conversation that I had a while back with a co-worker/good friend of mine, who I will call Andy. Because his fucking name is Andy, that's why I call him that. Andy has a tendency to come into my office and talk about work for 5 minutes, then talk about fuckery for 45 minutes. We have had some pretty interesting conversations, mostly about sex and relationships, and one in particular about lady's lingerie. I was telling him the story about how I accidentally bought a nursing bra - no fucking joke - and I couldn't figure out why the part that covers my breast could unsnap, until my other co-worker said, "asshole, you bought a nursing bra" and laughed at me and walked away. So, Andy and I are sitting in my office, laughing about my foolery and he says to me, "You know, guys don't really care about lingerie or any of that shit, because it is just going to end up being torn off anyway."
Wait, What?? Guys don't care about my pretty panties or nursing bra with snaps for easier access? Guys don't really know the difference between La Perla or Target nighties?? Mind Blown. Life as I know it seemed to not make sense anymore. All of my thoughtsicles started hurling out of control at warp speed. I had to steady myself to make sure I didn't faint from the sheer shock of what my friend just said to me....
No, seriously back to reality. I looked Andy dead in the face and in true H-Bomb eloquence said, "Duh, Fucker." And then I let him in on a little secret.
Women. Don't. Do. Everything. Just. To. Please. Men.
Yes, a LOT of what most women do is to catch or keep the other sex, but not everything. So please, men, calm yourselves and let me enlighten you.
I love my Hello Kitty. It is my best friend. And how do I treat my best friend? I buy her nice things to make her feel appreciated and pretty. Because let's face it, she didn't start off very cute and once a month she gets fucking ANGRY. When I am at Target or Victoria's Secret (pretty much the only 2 places I buy panties) I am not picking out the underoos, saying to myself, "Self, are these underoos going to drive a man so wild with desire that he throws me up against and wall and fucks me like he is on death-row, about to get executed?" Nope, I look at them going, "Is this one going to give me muffin top, is this one going show panty lines under my work pants, is this one going to keep me from getting a raging camel-toe when I am working out?" or, "Ooh, this cotton/lace/velour is so soft, I bet these will feel so nice on my hoo-hah!" Yep, that is pretty much a play-by-play of the thoughts running through my head when I am shopping, with an occasional, "That pair has sparkles on it," because, really, what classy bitch doesn't want sparkles on her Pandora's Box?
Here is revelation #2. I spend hundreds of dollars every year on bras and panties not to look sexy for a dude, but to look sexy for me. I not only love my kitty, but I love my body - I have been especially blessed in the T-N-A areas, and my lady junk looks good in nice bras and panties. I shell out the big bucks so that when I am walking around my house in my underoos, which I am prone to do, I can look at myself in the mirror and be all Silence of the Lambs and shit and say, "I'd fuck me."
Hold up, wait a minute! Before anyone starts saying that I am forgetting about actual lingerie, I am not. I know that we DO buy that fancy shit to please our men and get all dolled up before we hopefully get sexed up. However, in our day-to-day lives not many of us are getting ready to do what we do and are putting on crotchless panties, a bustier, garters and stockings. If you are, leave your email in the comments section so I can contact you, because I will of course need pics of this.
Back to my point. I know for the most part men don't really give a shit if my bra is lacy and my panties match. They want what is underneath all that jazz... and trust me, I want them to have it (hence why I haven't retired the nursing bra - that thing is all kinds of convenient for sexy times). I know what my goal is for my target demographic of males 18-49. But men, keep in mind we as women also like to feel pretty and sexy. And when we feel good, we are more prone to fuck you sideways like drunk college girls. See where this is going?
If you come home and find your woman in the kitchen wearing nothing but a sheer apron and high heels while cooking you dinner, then yes, that is all for you and she is ready to bone down ASAP, so please fuck her on the kitchen counter. And if you end up tearing off her delicates like my good friend Andy says you will, I bet if you hit it properly all will be forgiven.
But, if it is a Tuesday night and you want to bone down, and your lady has on some nice undergarments please don't think they were thinking about sexing you up when they were getting dressed this morning. Side note; most of us were probably thinking about sex, as we do quite often, but not when I was deciding what underwear to put on. Don't over think (that's our job!) our underwear choice as either caring or not caring about what you would think. Instead just just rip them off and do the damn thing!
Oh, and FYI, I am wearing the nursing bra today. Not because I am trying to use it for easy access, but because that shit is so comfortable, it is freezing here in FL and it keeps my nipples from chafing in the cold.
You are fucking welcome, fuckers.
