I like a woman who says “panties.”
If you say “panties,” you probably think everybody says “panties,” but you’re wrong. Some women say “underpants.” Some say “underwear.” Panties is what they are: sexy, frilly, taboo articles. I tried to wear my sister’s panties when I was a kid, so I learned they are naughty. When you say “panties,” I think you’re naughty, too. Am I alone in this, guys?
I also like a woman who can handle a stick shift. OK, a manual transmission. It’s a control thing: You have to know how a drive train works in order to drive a stick. RPM’s, flywheel, clutch, synchros. And connect all that to pushing the right pedals at the right time and sliding the shifter into position. Being in the right gear. And this doesn’t even take into account the motion of the legs required to accomplish this, preferrably in heels. This is a woman who knows what the hell she wants, and how to get it. The ultimate extension of this is the woman who downshifts to pass. If you drive like that, can I ride along?
I love a woman who can carry a tune. She doesn’t have to be a pro, or have any particular singing style, but the ability not only to recognize a melody, but also to recreate it more or less faithfully — that turns me on. It’s magic when she pulls the notes out of memory and performs the task of converting that memory into physical sound, using lungs, larynx and lips. I did it for a living for a long time, but the how of it remains a mystery. I become entranced when I witness it.
Did I say “heels” earlier? Yeah, I know they’re uncomfortable and orthopedically incorrect, but good God you look hot when you wear them! And every time I hear a pair of them clicking down the hall outside my office, I start having nasty co-worker fantasies just from the sound. They could be the simplest black pumps or exotic platform sandals — they do something for you, from the tilt of your ankle to the line of your calf to the curve of your ass. Geez, now I’m all sweaty again.
Put on your pretty panties, baby, your high heel shoes, red dress and lipstick. C’mon out and play. C’mon out and dance in the sprinklers, twirl in the moonlight. I’ll be wearing my skinny red tie. Pick me up at the corner and let’s go for a ride.
19 Replies to “What I Like About You”
See that girl with the red dress on,
She knows how to shake that thing!
Does your sister know this about you and her panties? Do you think she’d know that, for a pervert, Anybody’s panties would do? How do I know? I’ve sung “Duke of Earl” and worn a girl’s panties many a time, though not (unfortunately) recently. This is so naughty, I can’t stand to think of it. I hope nobody on your blog knows who we are. (Unless they’re women and are eager to let their knickers down.)
“Boy, you’ve been a naughty girl
you let your knickers down”
I’m speechless. I had no idea 🙂
My mother wears underwear. I wear panties … or nothing at all.
I thought I was alone in my convictions about commanding a mastery of driving. I’ve never owned a car with a manual transmission, and I’ve never fucked one up either. If you’re gonna drive, know how to drive dammit!
The right lipstick and the crisp click of highheels can take charge of a room – – or a hallway on occassion. (and, for the record, my magic jeans only become truly magical when I wear a pair of high heeled boots with them).
I’m afraid I’m not the woman for you, however. I lack the vocal ability you describe. Although, like you, I am in awe. A beautiful woman sang ‘Brown Eyed Girl’ to me in a pub in Dublin one day (at least I was sure she was singing specifically to me). I fell hopelessly in love. The only thing I managed to say to her was “Hello” as we passed in the Ladies Room. I’m certain that I still lover her.
Ron — You’ve focused perhaps a bit uncomfortably much on the “Larry wears panties” aspect of my post. It was a brief incident long ago. Bravo to you, however, for owning up to your own fascination.
L — Speechless? You?
Theresa — I’m just sayin’ some things I like. There’s a lot more stuff, but, hey, it’s not Valentine’s Day yet. None of these things would be dealbreakers, anyway.
You said >…I’ve never owned a car with a manual transmission…
Well, Larry, I’m with you on the high heels, if I’m on my feet I’m wearing the heels. And I’m still ticked off that U.S. car rental companies don’t give you an option to rent a car with a manual transmission (in Europe it’s hard to find an automatic); I am definitely one of those who downshifts to pass (or to slow down for a cop without his seeing my brake lights as a big red flag). However. Red lipstick doesn’t work for me so much as burgundy. Since I only wear thongs, that’s how I usually refer to them, although sometimes “undies” works for me. And I can’t sing at all but it doesn’t stop me from embarrassing myself in trying. So I guess I score only a 40% in your book.
The downshifting and the heeals are heavily weighted. You are probably a 10.
Did I say “Kayetn?” I mean “Kayten,” of course!
I did mean “automatic” transmission. My friends were nagging me about going out for Sushi and I was typing in a big hurry. Thanks for understanding. I also meant to write “Love her” not “Lover her” 🙂
Theresa — Actually, I like the expression “lover her.” I thought you said it on purpose, to distinguish your feelings from love, which takes longer than the duration of “Brown-Eyed Girl” to develop, while still saying you have strong feelings.
Wouldn’t it be loverly?
I liked the “I lover her” typo too. After all, I lover Theresa but I don’t know her well enough to love her yet.
Gee, thanks on the 10 rating, Larry. Going from a 4 to a 10 in one afternoon makes me quite heady.
Hey, Kayten! Glad you checked back. Not only did you get to see your promotion to a 10, but my correction to misspelling your name. Plus now I don’t have to post a separate correction to my misspelling of the word “heels” in my first response to you.
Also, I am giving all of you until morning to rebuke me for my horrible pun concealed in one of these comments.
You both have a good point, Kayten & Larry. I don’t love the girl from the pub. I’m in love with the idea of her. The feeling I had while she was singing was absolutely loverly.
My daddy, (and yes…that’s what I call him) refused to let me drive on my own until I knew how to drive a stick shift, change the oil, and change the tire. I taught my first husband how to drive a manual transmission.
I always call them “panties.” It’s very important to stress the last syllable. Here in Oklahoma, there are plenty of women that wear “pannies.” It’s not so sexy that way. I love to drive my husband nuts by refering to his boxers as panties. It’s always the same conversation: “Here, honey. Put your panties in your drawer/ You need to put your panties in the hamper/ I bought some new panties for you.” He always responds, “I don’t wear panties. They’re underwear.” It always makes me smile.
As I began reading about the lipstick I was thinking, “Red is not my color.” But I’m re-thinking it.
Ha! I found it! A brief incident!!!
Kayten — You’re right! For those who want to relive the hilarity, the pun is in my first response to Ron Southern’s comment, and it goes like this “Ron — You’ve focused perhaps a bit uncomfortably much on the ‘Larry wears panties’ aspect of my post. It was a brief incident long ago.”
Obviously, nobody thinks I’m very funny.
Aw, Larry, I think the skinny tie is very funny. But that’s probably not what you meant.
Actually, I’m quite Polish, so many jokes and puns just go over my head. Don’t take it personally.
For some reason I found myself looking at Red lipstick at the Drug Store this morning. Is it curiosity, or am I really that easily influenced?
Don’t think about it so much. Obey your lips. What can it hurt?
Oh Larry, you might be a bad influence on me. Some people in my life have suggested that I obey my lips far too much for my own good. Of course, they happen to be the ‘not-very-much-fun’ people in my life.
I really should get to the Drug Store before it closes!
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