Why I Don’t Waste Money On Lingerie for My Husband
But I spend on sexy things for my lovers
Lingerie.
Those bits of clothing or non-clothing spur the imagination of many a man. And fuel regret. Especially on r/deadbedrooms where desire has been short-circuited permanently.
No flipping that switch.
“My wife told me a few years ago that we didn’t have sex because she didn’t have anything to wear to feel ‘sexy.’ I bought her $500 worth of lingerie that ‘she’ picked out,” wrote Mr. Trick_RY.
“Guess what happened?” he continued. “That was three years ago, and she’s still never worn any of it. Instead, it sits on one side of a drawer, never touched.”
Damn…
“I used to ask about it, and she’d always make excuses why she hasn’t worn it. It all even has the tags on it,” he ended with.
Or a woman writing, “Taking all my lingerie to Goodwill tomorrow. Unused anyway. Maybe some other woman can get lucky since it’s never going to be me.”
I could commiserate. I had a drawer of lovely lacy things that never saw the light of day, either. There wasn’t a point in having them. Every time that drawer opened, I’d be filled with such resentment.
“Why isn’t he interested?”
“Doesn’t he find me attractive?”
“What is wrong with me?”
Now I use all that new lingerie for lovers. And I’ve bought plenty more. It’s hidden in a wicker box where my hubby would never look. Teddies, babydolls, garters, fishnets, crotchless undies, strappy g-strings, bras that tease, slinky silk chemises, in all manner of colors.
Affair partners appreciate underthings. They long to undress you or push aside a bit of material to get at a soft breast or a wet and wanting pussy.
“This right there,” my ex used to say as he slid his hands down my body. Where my teddy would ride up my plump ass, he’d trace.
“You like that curve, don’t you?” I’d ask. “Oh, absolutely.”
That and the fishnet thigh highs. “Let me look at you,” he’d command.
“OMG, this is embarrassing,” I’d say, blushing. “No, it’s not. You are all woman and so beautiful.”
It would make me want to please him. Find new pieces to thrill him. I’d send him pictures of what I liked.
“You like this one? Smiley winky face emoji.” “I like you in anything.”
The correct answer, my dear.
“Will you let me buy something for you?” my ex asked me.
“Sure. Just make sure it fits.”
“It doesn’t matter; it won’t be on for long.”
That’s the type of desire you get in an affair — best when clothing is strewn across the floor.
He’d watch me in the hotel mirror and then push me back on the bed urgently. “This needs to come off, now!” he hissed.
I stopped trying to wear lingerie at home years ago. No opportunity ever arose for my husband to even look at me.
“Why bother?” I thought to myself. I could parade in front of him with a gorgeous piece, and he’d say, “What are you doing? Put some clothes on!”
So I’m no longer trying to kick that football like Charlie Brown.
Dead beds aren’t conducive to feeling sexy and good about yourself. But, provocative lingerie is. It holds and displays your assets. It teases and provokes. It hides and entices. It can unleash that sexual beast.
Now I know the power of lingerie.
If you liked this one, read about my ex keeping his clothes on in bed:
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