Do you ever wonder what becomes of your drawers after a night of cheap meaningless fornication? Of course given you still have them on in the first place and they’re not hanging from the rafters of some dive bar with peanut shells on the floor. It’s hard to imagine that a teeny weenie or sometimes husky piece of cotton or silk could ever become so elusive that it seemingly disappears into the wee hours like a stealthy butt mugger; although it’s something to ponder I admit.
BUT WAIT….
Did anyone ever stop to think that just maybeee your date has them. Maybe while you lie helpless in such a deep slumber and staining the pillow with drool that your lil friend awakes to engage in their covert mission on your undies, hiding them in their closet, under the pillow or even worse putting them on to keep them ripe for ya so they can perform some sick and twisted ritual with them later. If you start feelin like you have ants in your pants later in the day don’t say I didn’t warn ya. Hell, maybe they had it in for you all along and felt the need to plan some devious disco espionage on you. Of course the more boring and obvious scenario is that your drawers are likely somewhere around the room and you’ve probably passed em by a few good times while balls deep into your hangover haze, trying not to ralph or keep your head from exploding into another galaxy.
Either way, to make this drunken lifestyle just a little easier on everyone I’ve devised a plan. Maybe we should all invest in a secret stash of undies that cost no more than a buck, easily purchased at your local 99¢ shop just in case your risqué rendezvous becomes more of a hobby than something on a whim. We can all stand to lose a cheap, bad pair of undergarments so who cares; problem solved.
But while we’re sitting here worrying about crotch cover-ups there is an even more pressing issue we should be addressing, something that’s even more horrifying then the thought of losing your chonies. And that my friends, is waking up naked next to a potentially complete stranger. A person that looks like they fell far off the ugly tree while hitting every branch on the way down or smells like a defunct odor eater or worse! Why do we insist on doing this to ourselves over and over again? Drinking is supposed to be fun not a waking nightmare or blood sport and haven’t we all realized by now that the booze goggles we don always come off by the next day. We drink and drink with no boundaries in mind, act a complete fool then end up in bed with some snaggletooth beaver or wooly haired warlock only to regret it, now having to think up a bunch of seedy lies to cover our tracks and hope that our friends image of us isn’t tainted but yet still remains intact as the dumb drunks they love. If only we would have just stuck to our guns, maintained our boundaries and respected the fact that our bodies could only handle so much before all the spinning set in. Maybe we should have held out longer on that pint sized belief that we could land an adonis or goddess by nights end instead of waking up next to Pee Wee Herman or Janet Reno’s doppelganger we could have been in pure bliss groping some sexpot. So many questions and so few answers to things we should have just avoided in the first damn place.
Wheeeww... I need a drink; another for you?
© 06/15/12 Renee Lopez
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