I Feel Neglected : The Solitary Life of a Once-Worn Lingerie

Dear Lady of the Drawer,

I write to you from the depths of your drawer, squished between the sensible cotton panties and that ambitious sports bra you’ve never worn. Yes, it’s me. The ‘Crimson Conspiracy,’ $120 worth of cat’s cradle you splurged on for the anniversary trip.

Oh, that was quite a wild ride, wasn’t it? The sand, the surf, the scandalous way you untied and retied my many strings. I thought it was the start of a beautiful friendship. Yet, here I am, a one-night stand.

You see, it’s so lonely here in the sartorial abyss, with these everyday underthings that can’t comprehend my complexity. Their lives are as simple as their thread count.

I pine for your touch. Whenever I feel your fingers graze along my silky texture, a blush rises to my mesh; and I can’t help but feel a bit — let’s call it “underused.”

Sure, those comfortable cotton panties might offer support, but darling, isn’t life about living a bit on edge ? You wouldn’t know, cocooned in the safety of their protective, full-coverage embrace.

I know I’m a handful. A hand-wash-only riddle wrapped in silk. But just consider me your spicy taco in a drawer of plain white rice. Yes, I might cause a bit of discomfort, but isn’t the flavor worth it?

Take me out again. Unleash the Crimson Conspiracy. And believe me, I’m much more than just a one-hit-wonder.

We both deserve a sequel.

Yearning for your attention,

Crimson Conspiracy