The underwear in the bar story…the pantyline from hell.
Okay, this story has been alluded to in previous blogs by at least one of my fellow Butterscotch Martini Girls, but I probably would have allowed it to lie quietly in the dark – that is, until that very same BSMGirl made the mistake of “pulling a Kayce”. So today, the story is just too good to pass up and it now must see the light of day.
The first story in this series begins…hmmm…maybe 23 or 24 years ago. It was one of those blurry Saturday mornings from my mis-spent youth, where my boyfriend and I went in search of a little hair of the dog to quell the pounding in our heads from too much fun the night before. We’d been at the local bar maybe an hour or so…long enough that the Bloody Marys were starting to kick in and I was beginning to think I just might make it through another day. So while I made a trip to the ladies room, my boyfriend ordered another round of Bloody Marys.
As I returned from the bathroom and climbed back on my barstool, something pink lying on the floor next to my stool caught my eye. So I hopped off the stool and retrieved what I thought would turn out to be a bar towel or something similar. Oh no, it turned out to be a pair of panties…ladies panties. Eeeewww! But before I could let out a squeal and toss them back on the floor, I recognized them. These were my panties. My panties that had just been lying on the floor of the bar, and were now hanging from my fingertips with sawdust clinging to them.
My boyfriend turned and saw them hanging limp from the tips of my fingers and just raised one eyebrow as his eyes met mine. Now, you must remember that this was a truly mis-spent period in my life and I was just coming off a serious hangover. The blood was starting to trickle into my brain, but it wasn’t yet fully functional. So I extended my hand toward the poor boyfriend, panties dangling in mid-air, and asked, “Did you put these here?”
The deer in the headlights look crept slowly over his face as he searched desperately for an answer. After a few ticking seconds passed, he replied. “Uh…no. Why would I do that? Are they yours?”
I thrust them closer to his face and said, “Yeah. Like you didn’t know?”
I can still remember his eyes shifting right and left like he was searching for some way out of the bar…or possibly the town…anywhere but here with this angry madwoman dangling pink panties covered in sawdust from her fingertips in the middle of a bar full of rednecks nursing hangovers.
“Honey, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” was the only stupid thing the poor schlub could come up with.
“Oh, sure you don’t,” was my clever retort. “You don’t think I’d drag my own panties into the bar and throw them on the floor, do you?”
“And you think I did?”
Well, he did have a point, but I was on a roll and I knew it couldn’t have been me…so it must’ve been him. Who else had access to my panties? I made my point again. “I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but this isn’t funny. I didn’t bring them here, so it had to be you!”
This was about the time the blood must’ve hit his brain because he tried to just remain silent. Tried. Unfortunately, I was pissed about what he’d done and I meant to let him know just how mad I was. Now, I’m normally a pretty laid back person, but having my boyfriend dump my panties on the floor in the bar was just too much to take. So I proceeded to pick a helluva fight and wound up being dropped off in my driveway to the sound of squealing tires tearing up the street in front of my house. Well, good riddance. I didn’t need a pervert in my life…what kind of thing was that to do to a girl?
Now, you might think that was the end of the story. But, oh no…anyone who knows me knows that there’s always more to the story. I believe it was the following weekend that I got up on Saturday morning and went to the dresser to get a clean pair of panties. I pulled on the fresh panties and then pulled on the jeans I’d worn the night before, padding out to the kitchen to put on a pot of coffee. As I shuffled around the kitchen, pouring water into the coffeemaker and scooping coffee into the filter, I felt something tickling the top of my foot. Bleary eyed, I looked down and saw a pair of blue panties poking out the bottom of my jeans. What the hell? I reached for them and realized that when I slipped off my jeans the night before, I’d pulled them down and left them on the floor with the panties wadded up inside. So when I got dressed the next morning…yeah, you guessed it…the panties from the day before had hitched a ride in the leg of my jeans.
To make a long story short, I had a lot of groveling to do to get that boyfriend back. I ate crow for a month over that one. And I must admit that it’s happened to me several times since. Oh, I’ve never again found them sitting on the floor of a bar, but I have found them wadded up in the strangest places and sometimes peeking out the bottom of my jeans. But it has made for an excellent story to tell through the years…and, as a matter of fact, I just told that story a few weeks ago during a drunk shopping trip with Tina and Isabella and April.
Now, again, you might think that’s the end of the story…but you’d be wrong yet one more time. There’s a sequel. Earlier this week, I got an IM message from Tina who was laughing so hard, she could hardly type. She had just spent the morning running some errands and eating breakfast at Village Inn. When she got home, she realized her pants felt funny. As she tugged to straighten them and tried to figure out what was wrong, she discovered a huge lump on her butt. So reaching down into the back of her jeans, she came up with a pair of bright pink panties with little kisses all over them.
Now, I don’t really know which experience would be more humiliating…to find them on the floor of the bar and dump your boyfriend because you think he’s a pervert or to realize you’ve just paraded through Village Inn, Fry’s supermarket, and Borders bookstore looking like you were carrying a load in your diaper. But I suspect possibly the latter. After all, I never had to go back to that bar. Tina, on the other hand, will one day have to brave Borders again as she sits at a table looking every bit the professional and signs books for adoring fans. Let’s just hope none of those fans was there that day to see Tina’s fateful voyage through the bookstore with the pantyline from hell.
That’s my story…hold on tight ‘cuz we’re gonna go real, real fast.
Kayce
