Revelations and Rebuilding. By Becca Sokolov (beccalov)

New Pajamas

February 12, 2009 at 12:41 am (divorce, family, humor, lingerie, sex) (assault, divorce, family, hotels, humor, lingerie, Looney Tunes, relationships, sex, TJ Maxx)

I found myself rooting around in my closet, where one of the light bulbs was (and still is) out.  I was desperate for a bit of sexy.  There was a 26-year-old campaign staffer/athlete on his way upstairs.  He had already let me know that my cotton panties bought in the juniors department are “granny panties.”  Now that he was actually spending the night with me in my house, instead of in a random hotel with the alarm set to get me home before the kids and my now-ex-husband woke up, I figured I should come up with something, well, YOUNG.  I was horrified at what would happen the first time anyone saw this two-time mom naked, and even though Paul assured me in those hotel rooms that I looked good, I suspected that a less boozy encounter required more serious measures than switching from bikinis to boy shorts.

 I found something filmy and lacy and short.  Threw it on quickly.  Only when I was tying the slinky little bow did I realize—this was the lingerie from my wedding night.  Oh, well, the bedroom door was opening, and there was nothing to do but present myself, the YOUNG bride, to someone who would never even be my date at a wedding, much less my groom.

Even though the honeymoon outfit was a hit, it was clearly time for some new pajamas.  I needed something to impress, but I also just needed to get out of the old.  The worst offenders were a pair of XS men’s pajama bottoms from Old Navy with coffee cups printed all over.  They were old and frayed, worn broadcloth that had holes where they dragged on the floor.  One night, in the days of negotiating our separation, I assaulted Brett with them.  He was lecturing me about my selfishness while sitting in the middle of the 50 pounds of laundry I was folding.  I snapped.  “You are having an affair with my best friend!” I shouted, and for emphasis, I swatted him with the coffee cup jammies on each word.  He told me I was a psycho, went to put Ben to bed, and angrily typed on his keyboard while he waited for teeth to be brushed.  I thought that was the end of it. 

I was still folding laundry an hour later, when there was a knock at my door and a police car in my driveway.  I answered the door in an equally pathetic pair of pajamas, tearstained cheeks, ponytail on top of my head, old glasses slipping off my nose.  I stood 5 feet tall, and maybe weighed 94 pounds.  I was not threatening.  In the street, next to a SECOND police car, was Brett, all 6 foot 5 of him, at least twice my weight.  I mean, he could literally put his hand on my forehead and I couldn’t reach him, like in the Looney Tunes. The officer at the door didn’t blink.

“Your husband called.  He said you were fighting and it got physical.”  After a moment to sit and think, I went and got the pajamas.  “Here’s the weapon.  Do you need it for evidence?”  The officer kept a straight face, “No ma’am, we won’t be filing a report.”

Well, that first try to get rid of the pajamas didn’t work.  And I even kept wearing them, maybe just to remind Brett of what he did while he kept living in my basement.  Now that he’s finally moved out, perhaps it’s time to burn them.  But that’s not the kind of hot pajamas I need.

I am too cheap to buy really fine lingerie.  Except for my investment bras (a story for another entry).  But I have managed to find a few sexy little numbers on sale at TJ Maxx.  One night I even dressed up in one of them, complete with thigh highs, threw my long winter coat on, and surprised my current love interest, Joshua.  I worried about being pulled over and arrested the whole way across town.  This time, for the right reason.