With a request to order more
I find it peculiar that I’m the one,
chosen to buy the girl her clothes.
Perhaps My tastes are attractive,
certainly, certain things, catch my eye
and she’d look amazing always.
It is not about the money or buying
we share everything in equal measure.
It could be that I have more time,
obviously more than she does or
she simply prefers my attention to detail.
I swear, I would make the biggest deal
out of something she bought on her own,
so it’s not about being controlling.
Maybe it’s the surprise in not knowing
the next outfit to be revealed.
Come to think of it
I rarely get gifts of my own,
fuck, I’m an enabler.
That’s it, she’s buying her own.
No more romanticizing about purchases,
from now on I will
consider such requests as unfair
and a chore that is useless.
I understand this is not the norm,
this picking out of her clothes,
but honestly, there is this gut feeling
when you find that one blessed item,
heavily marked down next to nothing.
Extreme satisfaction washes over you
we’ve all said it,
“Can you believe how much?”
Maybe one last purchase for the girl,
who expects me to do her shopping.
Throughout this entire poem
I never mentioned the one thing
she asked me to go get and find…
New panties. Mind you,
there is one issue to consider
comfort versus style, am I right?
She’s not a fan of the thong
or the string riding up her bottom,
but her favorites are boy-cut or
bikini-low rise hipster.
On one hand adorable and not
perhaps, she has another plan
always asking me to look.
So one last time I’ll go and shop,
it’s been an hour since she asked
if I wouldn’t mind getting her favorite
Calvin Klein panties
the ones I found in black,
as she lifts her skirt
to show me her hip.