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by Neo Blaqness

Today I finally had the courage to open that drawer. The one I set aside for her to use whenever she would visit. Where she would leave the things that made it feel like home- knowing that each time she came back seeing it just the way she left it, that a part of her lived here even when she was gone.

Her bath sponge still hangs next to mine. Her shampoo and conditioner rest in the bathroom cabinet with the extra contact lens case we stopped past the dollar store to get one time when she was here. Food I bought only because I knew she liked it- the little comforts that spoke to others that she had been here and; obviously, loved by me.

In the past when we would have our differences and think that it was all over, I never could put those things away. To throw them in the trash was like a sin against my own heart. So they would remain as a solemn reminder of my stubbornness or her stupidity or vice versa. I would shower and she would be there. I would shave and she would be there. Go to the kitchen and she would be there… until the food spoiled so rotten that I had no choice but to throw it out. I could never eat it. It was meant for my hands to prepare it for her.

The sofa where we shared our first kiss, my bed where we first made love, the pillows where we rested for hours looking into each others eyes and just talking; that mirror that reflected our passions that day when we both happened to look up at the same time from the sweat pouring over our bodies.  Oh how I wish sometimes I could just replace it all.

But somehow, in spite of the memories that haunt my every turn, I could never quite get myself to open that drawer, until today. You see, I had always been so organized before she went away. Everything folded and in the right place.  Since she’s  been gone, it’s all been as dusty and tossed about as our love.

This all came about because I did my laundry. Having organized every drawer I could not find the bottom half to one of my gym sets. I looked all over, under the bed, back in the laundry room, cleared out the closet knowing full well where they were but still having to prove it in my mind- to give myself a reason to open that drawer. The reality is, I never wore those shorts again since the day she borrowed them. I washed them and I put them back. And each time she would wear them and put them in with my laundry they always went back into her drawer.

And so, after a deep breath,  I opened the drawer. The extra set of combs for her hair, the simple tank top she looked so sexy in running to the bathroom, and, yes, my shorts. Out of all the things on which her memory lingers, this was the most emotional reminder of her… because life changes when a woman gets into a man’s shorts.

There are so many signs of who a woman is and wishes to be in your life. Like if she even comes over to your house, then she is ready to know the real you. If she lets you cook for her, she has confidence in your judgment. If she takes off her shoes and curls up on your couch, your grooming impresses her.  If she kisses you, your presence attracts her. If she looks in your eyes to talk to you, your spirit reaches her. If she takes off her wig or extensions (I’m just sayin…lol) she wants you to know the real her. If she lays in your arms after the loving, it is where she truly hopes to be for the rest of her life.

Now all of that may seem like a lot. And indeed it means a lot and says a lot about the true romance between people. But when a woman gets into a man’s shorts, it is a message that is deeper than sex. A man’s shorts is where he sweats his balls off. A man’s shorts is where he might start to leak if a woman has made him horny. A man’s shorts tells everything about a man’s hygiene.  For a woman to get up from sex and put her bare coochie in a man’s shorts is more powerful than her swallowing a nut. Because even if the man has good hygiene, you still have to trust that he knows how to do laundry. There is a reason most women wash their panties by hand. They don’t want any heavy detergent irritating things down there but most men don’t give that a single thought when they put half the soap box in a single load.

So when a woman gets into a man’s shorts it is as close to putting a ring on a finger that she can get.  I never realized until today what it meant to me the day she asked to borrow them and I reached over and pulled them out of my drawer and gave them to her. How much it changed me to see her in something that was a reflection of my manhood that she wore in such a new and sexy way.  They would never be mine again.  I remember wanting to wear that color short set to match up with the guys I was playing football with and I went mismatched because they weren’t mine anymore and I couldn’t  just replace them with a duplicate set. I simply said I lost them. Well, it was a half truth- I did lose them to her.

And I was thinking today that there are so many ways a woman gets into a man’s mind and into his heart…

But when a woman gets into a man’s shorts, he sees a vision of himself and everything he hopes to have in his life.

When a woman gets into a man’s shorts, he learns that the body may be strong but the heart is fragile and needs care.

When a woman gets into a man’s shorts, he understands that it takes more than d*ck to wear the pants and that there is value to the substance of who she is.

When a woman gets into a man’s shorts, she validates her acceptance of his manhood and he confirms her place equal in his heart.

When a woman gets into a man’s shorts, she adds to his glory the compassion of her wisdom reminding him that might and power alone is not the measure of greatness.

When a woman gets into a man’s shorts, it is the ultimate symbol of one-ness; that she is standing where he stands.

Someday I will have to take down ther bath sponge. I will have to throw out her shampoo and the conditioner.  But today I had to simply, close that drawer.  I can’t say I truly understand myself in what it all means, but to empty it is not an option. Because, for now, that is where my love lives.