A woman’s lingerie drawer should be one of the sexiest places in the house.
I’ve got some seriously bad feng shui going on in mine
Sports bras, practical underwires, lacey push-ups, athletic boyshorts, sheer teddies, leopard print thongs, cotton bikinis (the comfort food of underwear)—they are all tangled together and crammed into the top drawer of my dresser.
My man’s top drawer isn’t much better. Since one of the basic principles of feng shui is to get rid of clutter, I decide to purge. I start with the underwear we never wear and then go for the ones we’ve worn too much.
Old underwear isn’t sexy.
We agreed on this fact early on in our relationship when we made a pact to do whatever it took to sustain a sexy, passionate relationship.
I kept the juices flowing by writing erotic essays about our outdoor adventures. My outdoor guide kept the flow of material coming. We agreed that for Christmas and birthdays we’d buy each other sexy underwear.
Flash forward nine years:
My erotic memoir is done.
My guide took a full-time job as a wildlife biologist so we had to give up (temporarily, I swear) our bohemian lifestyle in Colorado and move to Northeast Oregon. The flow of outdoor adventure material has dwindled to a trickle.
As I dig around our top drawers, we've obviously drifted from the sexy underwear tradition. A couple of New Year’s ski trips to Canada and a 1964 Schwinn tandem bike ate up the budget.
My man has a birthday coming, so I get on-line and jump start the tradition.
When he gets home, sweaty and dirty from a day chasing cougars, he mistakes my pile of castaways on the bed for clean laundry. He grabs his favorite platinum-colored Mansilk boxer briefs as he heads to the shower. They look more gray now than silver and have holes near the hem.
“Hey, you can’t wear those. They aren’t sexy any more,” I say as I point towards the pile. “None of this stuff is.”
It’s kind of sad, a small mound of Birthday and Christmas Past.
“You’re just going to throw them away?” he asks.
“I guess. I haven’t been able to do it yet.”
He reaches down and picks out a shapeless fuchsia thong and a disintegrating nude demi-bra, the one I wore under my wedding dress. He hands them to me.
“I’m going to jump in the shower. When I get out, let’s rip these off of each other.”
I take it back. Old underwear can be sexy.
For Her: Hanky Panky thongs:
For Him: Mansilk Boxer Briefs.