This entry comes to us from Sparks via her blog No Sparks.
Hold on to your undies, ladies!
as a rule, i won't use this outlet to tell humiliating stories about ex-boyfriends or anyone i have ever truly cared about... that is, of course, unless they did something grossly inappropriate or gut-bustingly funny. such is the case with the underwear thief.
JG started out as a taboo, a coworker i was sleeping with out of convenience, but quickly evolved into someone special. we only dated for a month before he took a job in another city and split. we stayed in contact and, over the next 6 years, visited each other several times for weekend romps. these weekend get-togethers would start with a friendly hug, then move straight to the bedroom, where we would stay until it was time to say goodbye. just like that, we could turn it on for the weekend and turn it off again without losing any sleep pining for each other when we were apart. it was when we deviated from this bedroom-weekend pattern that JG became fodder for my dating tales.
one weekend, JG drove in from LA so we could take a little road trip down to Tucson together, to see 'rock kills kid,' a band we both like.things got ugly right away...
jg: "can you please not smoke in the car?"
me: "roll your window up, i have the a.c. on."
"don't throw your cigarette out the window!"
"stop changing my music."
"don't put that out in here! it smells!"
"you have to go to the bathroom again?"
"seriously, you can't go 2 hours without a cigarette?"
...and just deteriorated from there. he became an octopus at the concert, groping me to the point of public indecency and seriously pissing me off, because i don't like to be f*cked with when i'm listening to a band i never get to see and paid good money to watch.
things didn't even get better when we retreated to our safe place - the bedroom. we were staying with a friend of mine, who was sleeping in the next room, so we felt the need to be quiet. i don't particularly enjoy quiet sex, so i might not have even bothered if i weren't so desperate to salvage the weekend. plus, i wanted to show off the new underwear i'd bought just for this trip - cute little hot-pant boy shorts with lace trim. tomboy sexy. JG was into 'em, so we proceeded, but apparently the quiet wasn't doing it for him either. he wasn't performing up to his usual standards, so i feigned sleep when he took too long to finish.
the next morning, i was standing in my friend's kitchen with a packed suitcase, keys in hand, ready to get this weekend the hell over with. JG finally finished primping and joined me in the kitchen, asking: "hey, did you leave your hairbrush in the bathroom?"
oh, yes, i had. i went to retrieve it. when i came back, he was fidgeting a bit.
"um, i think you forgot something else."
he then bent down to unzip his bag, fumbled under a pile of clothes and pulled out a wadded ball of purple and green - my new underwear. he handed them to me and stuttered something about how i must have left them.
really? i left them on the bottom of your suitcase? douche bag?
i was speechless the whole way home. i had never realized how long the drive from tucson to phoenix could be.
that was my last weekend with JG, now officially "the underwear thief." we sporadically stay in touch, and this past year, he got engaged. he is actually a truly phenomenal person, kleptomania and panty fetish notwithstanding, and i wish him all the best. i just hope his fiancé has the good sense to get a padlock for her underwear drawer.