Why I’m Never Getting Married Again

I found my breastfeeding gown today. It was buried under old night-time clothes in the bottom of a rarely opened drawer. I haven’t breastfed since the year 2000 so I am not really sure why I still have it. But having my 13 year old breastfeeding gown is not the reason I will never get married again.

The reason no man will ever marry me again is because I put it on. And not only did I put it on, but I wore it around the house for a good portion of the day.

I can’t be absolutely sure, but my best guess is that men have fantasies about what women wear around the house when they’re not around. I imagine men envision us frying bacon and making sandwiches in matching demi bras and lace trimmed boy shorts. Maybe they think we don garters and stockings to bend over the bathtub and scrub away soap scum. Perhaps they think we mop floors in the nude, only to take a break when the washing machine finally reaches the coveted spin cycle. Imaginably, men believe we bake cookies in nothing but an apron and when we are feeling more casual, in a simple, white, V-neck, baby doll tee (to expose our boobs, of course) and small, white, cotton panties.

Forgive me for revealing our secret, ladies, but this just isn’t the case. We wear sweat pants (preferably yours, men). We wear old yoga pants that between our chaffing thighs and one too many times in the dryer are piling between the legs. We wear the over- sized t-shirt that you ruined last summer when you finally painted the porch after listening to two years of our nagging. We wear your boxers and even your boxer briefs, but never your tighty-whities. When you are not around we wear shit like 13 year old breastfeeding gowns.

Now, I could certainly argue the breastfeeding gown’s level of sexiness. It’s not Victoria’s Secret, but it does feature two nice sized openings in the front (much like your underwear) that allow our breasts to slip right out. It’s sleeveless, so you might even get an occasional view of the side-boob. It’s also short. The hem sits about 6 inches above the knee. With a slight bend at the waist, you’re sure to catch a glimpse of our round behinds. Finally, there is no need to remove it for purposes of intimacy. By simply utilizing the two slits in the front and lifting the hem a few more inches, you can easily access all of your woman’s essential love making parts. There are no buttons to unbutton and no snaps to unsnap. There are no buttons that look like snaps or snaps that look like buttons (we know these frustrate you). There is no stress over your ability to use the single-handed bra pop that you’ve practiced since your teens. It really is a simple piece of cloth that may look matronly, but gives you near full access to all of our lady parts.

But that’s not why I slipped on the breastfeeding gown today. It wasn’t to seduce The Boyfriend with my gown’s boob slits. I put it on to be comfortable and comfortable women don’t get husbands. Maybe it is time to make a trip to Victoria’s Secret. Maybe I should ditch the sweats. Maybe one day I’ll get up the nerve to fry bacon naked. Maybe that will get The Boyfriend down on one knee. Maybe I’ll throw the breastfeeding gown away…after today, maybe.

I have a feeling I’m never getting married again…


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