The Laundromat

The laundromat is where I always wished my girlfriend and I met. In fact, I’ve thought a lot about how it would play out. I would be fumbling with dryer sheets and she’d notice me and smile. We’d start up a conversation and then do it at my place while the clothes dry. And although this was just a daydream, sometimes when I’m washing our clothes, the fantasy of meeting someone like that pops into my mind. The only problem (besides cheating, her finding out, and me writing a best-selling memoir about the ordeal) is that I’m washing our clothes. That means my performance briefs are mixed in with her performance thongs. So it would only be a matter of time until a woman looked at what was in my hamper and learned the truth. However, I’ve come up with a couple scenarios in which I could convince this spin-cycle sex kitten that I’m alone (although I’m not, and I love my girlfriend and stuff, but you get the idea).

Scenario 1: The Philosopher’s Stone
Me: Hey your laundry bag is neat—lots of functional pockets.
Her: That’s the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me.
Me: You’re welcome.
(She looks down and notices the clothes in my basket.)
Her: Wait a minute, do you have a girlfriend?
Me: No, I work at a shelter and wash their clothes on the weekend. It just feels good to give back.
Her: I’d say you should tell me more at your place, but my sheets still have another 5 minutes to dry.
(I give her my trademark smirk.)
Me:  Oh let’s plenty of time.

Scenario 2: The Goblet of Fire
Me: Hey! I recognize those tights from yoga. Sharon?
Sharon: Hey Alex!
Me: That class was crazy! One of those poses was so hard I almost started crying. I guess child’s pose would have been my best bet at that point.
Sharon. Haha! Oh Alex. What a well-crafted and relevant joke. Want to come back to...
(She looks down and notices the clothes in my basket.)
Me: It’s not what it looks like. Recently I decided that society’s “definition” of gender was wrong, and to protest it I wash women’s underwear. You know, because you wouldn’t expect that within a heteronormative construct.
Sharon: Again, well crafted and relevant. I live next door. Come on.

Now, you may be quick to point out the obvious exaggeration found in these scenarios, which is why I’m asking for a suspension of disbelief. Otherwise, you’ll never believe that I’d be so naïve as to leave my clothes unattended to have relations with some woman. That’s the easiest way to get your pants stolen.