“Thanks honey, but I’m cold. And working. And tired. And I like pants,” I added.
“But it’s ok, darling, you don’t need to wear them. I really don’t even mind if you take them off!” He grinned cheekily, hoping his charming antics would seduce me into nudity.
Operation Pants Removal
That conversation is repeated every day, sometimes multiple times. It has succeeded exactly zero times, but that doesn’t discourage Blake. “Someday you will learn the truth about pants,” he explains earnestly. “It’s like subliminal advertising. If I keep giving you permission, then your subconscious will eventually set you free from the terrible confines of wearing clothes all the damn time. See honey! I am only trying to help you!”
Why is it that men have such a constant desire to remove our clothes? If Blake sat around working on his computer with his pants off, I would not be turned on. (And by “If,” I mean “Every day when . . .”) But Blake is in a constant war with my wardrobe, deeming it his manly duty to vigilantly, valiantly pursue the goal of convincing me to disrobe.
I Like Pants, But I Like Him Better
Sometimes his pestering annoys me. If I’m trying to concentrate and he keeps yammering about my pants, it is irritating, not sexy. I know that I can take my pants off. I am the master of my own clothes. If I have my pants on, it’s because I want to have my pants on. (Like I said, I like pants.)
But in other little ways—telling me I’m beautiful, washing the dishes, having fun together in bed—Blake reminds me why he wages his anti-pants campaign: it’s because he truly loves to see anything and everything that is under my pants. He isn’t bored of me or disgusted by me. When he sees me in my underthings, he is enthralled, and he feels honored. And really, that’s pretty flattering.
And so, sometimes I take my pants off for him. And it’s usually worth it.
Permission to Take My Pants Off: How Not to Seduce a Woman