I’ll be frank with you. Turning up at a live music gig with my friend The Fabulous Miss Jones to see my very first Childhood Crush play felt a little bit like going to my school reunion with a supermodel.
Before the gig, I left a message on my Childhood Crush’s facebook wall saying:
“If I don’t get to talk to you tonight, can you pretend that the tall leggy blonde you saw in the audience was me? Thanks.”
When I told my husband about my misgivings, I thoroughly expected he would give me a little pep talk about how I’d impress the Childhood Crush with my sparkling wit and personality. Instead, he said “You should wear a dress that shows off your breasts.”
So I did. I mean, there’s something about revisiting the flames of your past that makes you want to look your Absolute Best – even if it’s just your breasts looking their Absolute Best.
Sadly, I once saw a Former Love in a food court in the city. I instantly knew it was him – after all, the bastard had broken my heart. He, in turn, looked over at me with some uncertainty. You see, it was shortly after the birth of The Pixie and I was the bloated shadow of my former self. So I kept my head down and thanked the Lord that I had used my ‘Starbucks Name’ when ordering my Boost juice.
[An aside: for those of you who are unaware of the Starbucks Name concept, it’s an easy-to-grasp pseudonym adopted by those poor souls endowed with Eastern European names with complex spelling who don’t want to be shouting “NO, NO! THAT’S ‘M’ FOR MOTHER!” over the din of a food court. ]
So when my Starbucks Name was called and it clearly wasn’t my name, the Former Love obviously decided it wasn’t me and went back to his conversation with his colleague. And I was able to waddle home to my suburban lair, Boost juice in hand.
Of course, ever since I became sohotrightnow, I have not seen him. Not once. The universe must hate me.
Anyway, back at the live gig, my Childhood Crush was very handsome and charming and gave The Fabulous Miss Jones, me and my breasts equal attention and I went home with that reassuring feeling that I’d had excellent taste in men at the age of 13. Result.
But here’s the thing… I also went home perilously late and extremely very drunk (another good reason not to go places with The Fabulous Miss Jones: neither of us have ‘Moderate’ as our middle name) and woke early in the morning fully dressed on the couch.
Except, I wasn’t fully dressed.
As I tried to drift back to sleep, I became suddenly – and terrifyingly – aware of the fact I wasn’t wearing any underpants. And, not being one to go commando for no good reason, I knew for certain I had started the evening wearing underpants…
When I got up later, I started looking for them. I looked everywhere: the laundry baskets, the bin, the fridge (yes, the fridge), under the couch, in the toilet. But they were nowhere to be seen. I even rang The Fabulously Hungover Miss Jones to ask her if she knew where they were. She denied all knowledge.
When my husband got home from work, we casually chatted about our days for a while before I tentatively raised the question of my underpants.
“Oh, yes. I found them with your handbag on the back table,” he said. “I put them in the washing machine because I didn’t think your father [our current house guest] needed to see them.”
Which at least explained their whereabouts… but not why they had been taken off or, indeed, when they had been taken off…
Listen, whatever happened, I’d like it to be stated for the record that it wasn’t me. It was someone who looked a helluva lot like me but had my Starbucks Name. Yeah, that’s it.
That. Is. Awesome 🙂
“Starbucks Name”. Brilliant.
I like to spell these things out with “P for pneumatic, I for isthmus, M for mnemonic…”
nice idea MM!
There was a moment there where I thought you had thrown your pants to your childhood crush. Phew. I’m so relieve they were in your handbag. And loving a starbucks name. I’m off to think of something classy. xx
Also loving the “Starbucks name” concept and was also thinking the crush had ended up with the panties!
You crack me up!
I’m so lucky – I got a Starbucks name when I got married. My SIL now has my old “CanIbuyavowelplease” Eastern European surname, although sometimes I still use it just for funzies.
I am finding myself imagining all the possible scenarios explaining how your undies could have ended up where they did, and I need to stop now or I will never get anything done today!
My husband has a starbucks name that he uses when he calls in to radio stations. Once I had a phone call for his alterego, telling me he had won a prize…… Then I had to quickly decide on where the alterego lived.
PS Were they spectacular little black lacy undies or grannie bloomer/hold everything in undies? The latter would explain why you whipped them off as soon as you got in the door. Or sooner.
Lmao! That is hilarious! I thought you had thrown them to Childhood Crush. Glad they were in your bag, but it makes me wonder why they came off. I have a Starbucks name also. With my funky spelled Hebrew name and a Hispanic last name, I find myself spelling far too much. (No thats V like Vasectomy not B like… nevermind…) Starbucks name is quite a bit easier.
Fully dressed sans undies is definitely more worrisome than waking up in your birthday suit.
Thanks for telling us all that you did. It’s partially resolved. We’ll never know the full story though, will we?
I’m loving the starbucks name! I must get me one of those.
oooh. i am just so impressed by how casual your husband treated the lose undies on the table .. !
(or is it just ME that can imagine all KINDS of scenarios that would not be exactly ok for most husbands.. 0_o)
you’re a wild child! 😀
Aaaah, the old walking undies mystery eh ? I fear now that all evidence has been destoyed in the hot cycle, we shall never know the answer to the riddle.
Aaah NDM, don’t you remember? We’d only been home about five minutes, before Mr NDM got home. I had to dive out the back door. At least *I* was fully dressed before I jumped next door’s fence…… 🙂
Glad you were looking your breast, I mean … best. Funny girl.
Hehe! I’ve been Bec at Starbucks since my early teens – my name gets spelt with a C so often that I gave up trying to correct them.
I just giggle my arse off every time I read your posts. Too funny!!
Glad you found your undies x
Brilliant! Starbucks name! Must get one of those, ASAP! And, I have to say, your husband gets extra points this week for being the Goose to your Maverick. That man is a KEEPER.
Thank GOD your panties weren’t just stuck to the back of your dress. I hate when that happens. Like at church.
You have an underpants mystery! Underpants mysteries are among the most perturbing.
the very best thing about this is that your husband didn’t say anything about the pants, just calmly put them in the wash! what a love he must be!
Oh you know it’s been a good night when you can’t find your undies.
The guy who broke my heart is now a bald thug who’s kid goes to my kids school. We both pretend we don’t know each other thank gawd. Stupid heartbreaking thug. 🙂 Very funny and I miss your regular posts but know you must have a reason. x
Your husband sounds like a gem! If I went to go see my old crush perform with my girls on display, my lover boy would be pouting like my three year old! And then come home, crash drunk on the couch and not lose his ever loving mind because I can’t seem to find my undies?
Actually, I have been in a eerily similar situation. Except, I crashed on the wrong couch in the wrong house. My best friend/sister in law, lived in the neighborhood with my hubbie’s brother. After a night full of drunken debauchery, I ended up on her couch and woke the next morning with missing undies… My husband lost his mind… I frankly thought he was overreacting, I clearly thought I’d made it home and was on our own couch. Clearly your husband understands that pretty panties get uncomfortable. Especially when stumbling in the house (or someone else’s) in a drunken stupor, looking for a couch to fall on. Great story!
Like many others I’m wondering why the panties came off.
I do know that if my hubby had found my panties on the table, he would have quizzed me from here to eternity about why I came home sans pants.
Am I the only person in Australia besides my daughter K who doesn’t like Starbucks coffee?