Behind the Mask

When one is stepping out with a new squeeze, there are always things one would prefer them not to see…for at least the first few dates.

I am not proud of my verruca that won’t go away, or that I have to use haemorrhoid cream from time to time, but I know there are far, far worse things lurking in other people’s bathroom cupboards, pant drawers, spare rooms and secret vaults.

Imagine wandering up to the bathroom on your first visit to your new chap’s house, accidentally opening the wrong door, leading you into the spare room and his vast china doll collection. And I don’t mean two or three rosy-cheeked Victorian girl dolls, standing on a shelf, but a room brimming with the things, their eyes staring out at you from every nook and cranny.

Or that spare room with the jammed door could reveal a wall of photos of you, taken from months ago in every bit of your daily life, long before you met him. It may include souvenirs like your old knickers or items from your dustbin…

In the bathroom you may open the cupboard in an innocent search for toothpaste, but instead cause an avalanche of incontinence pads, hair restorer, denture fixing gel or a penis pump…

But even his bedroom may not be completely safe. You would have hoped it had been vacuumed, tidied, freshly laundered and generally spruced up, but ‘nasties’ could still be lurking. You could bend over to unbuckle a shoe and brush your hand against a crusty pair of old boxers, or on checking the view from the window, stumble upon a forgotten cup of stale tea complete with floating mould. If he has been even more careless in the cleaning department, you may step on solidified tissues, or even uncover another woman’s lacy smalls under the bed.

“But what about you women?” I hear a few male voices call out. “You aren’t perfect or that clean yourselves!” Yes, fellas, I admit we are not guilt-free.

Some of us may be hiding a little more than a pair of breasts in our bras – those chicken fillet inserts come in handy, but would we want them jumping out in a moment of passion? Control pants have been very good to me on a number of occasions, but I am very aware that they look a lot like old lady ‘belly warmers’ when seen in isolation. And on a particularly ‘fat’ day, my tum may pop out like an airbag on their removal.

False eyelashes are also quite popular right now, but not something you want to start peeling off mid-snog.  What if they head south and end up as a makeshift Charlie Chaplin moustache? Which brings us to hair: Us ladies all want luscious, thick locks, but some of us need a little extra help, be it hair extensions, extra pieces or furious ‘Hell for leather’ backcombing (my usual choice). So imagine your beau’s horror, when he’s running his fingers through your hair, and pulls his hand away to find something resembling a gerbil attached to it.

So, none of us are the perfect, flawless creatures we would like a new dance partner to think we are. So we should be either extra thorough in our preparations/deception or just ourselves, minus the smoke and mirrors.

Catch my blog – drunkenslutmum.co.uk

 

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