Nervous anticipation creeps over my palms in the form of sweat beads, but I couldn’t be more excited.
A tall, thin and yet somehow curvaceous woman is closing her eyes, puckering her lips and begging me to come closer. Naturally, in the most primal sense of the word, I accept her invitation.
What follows is like walking in on a real-life, panty-only, perfect-10-filled pillow fight.
And then it hits me — in what world would a man evade Victoria’s Secret for any reason other than avoiding the potential nightmare of popping an un-tuckable woody after staring too long at a scantily clad mannequin? And with Valentine’s Day drawing near, hopeful men will be deliberately making the forbidden trek.
Many men, including myself, fear women — especially attractive ones. It’s an unexplainable, unshakable drawback to carrying a member between your thighs.
Conversation is the hardest part. Normally, it involves a mix of awkward pauses, uncomfortable silences and “How did I already screw this up?” thoughts.
But in Victoria’s Secret, none of that matters.
Posters don’t talk — at least not yet. The undergarments, even the ones with more see-throughness than substance, won’t turn you down if you approach with modest intentions of holding a casual verbal exchange.
As if on cue, a 20-something man in a paired-off foursome speaks up.
“I don’t think anyone should complain about Victoria’s Secret shopping,” he says.
I’m not making this up.
Panties and bras gift-wrapped in bowties, waiting to open up a world of ecstasy for some lucky guy, sit below a poster of a woman advertising mostly her bare back. A skinny strip of lace, harder to find than Waldo, graces the top of her buttocks.
I wonder for a moment whether the store sells anything besides sex. Then I see a couple of young teenage girls picking through a sea of thongs, and the thought of having a daughter scares me more than graduation and exorcisms combined.
After perusing the intimidating full-body contraption section, I make my way into the lotion and fragrance room.
Here’s my attempt at listing the brands/scents, increasing in sexual appeal: Love is Heavenly, Hello Darling, Such a Flirt, Endless Love, True Escape, Secret Crush, Simply Breathless, So Sexy, Vanilla Lace, Aqua Kiss, Seduction, Love Spell, Very Sexy, Midnight Dare, Very Sexy Temptation and ultimately, Pure Seduction.
I sniff a few, rarely distinguishing one from another. I search my senses to find the “lace” scent inside Vanilla Lace, the only fragrance with a hint of an identifiable aroma in its title. For the life of me, I can’t smell a netted material.
But in a store where sex is overtly inescapable, men usually enter for one of two reasons.
Most commonly, a female companion “drags” along the man, who’s pretending to oppose the lusty venture. Please, fellow males, listen to your senses and oblige them. This is the only time your girlfriend will encourage gawking at nearly nude, incredibly irresistable women.
And less often, a brave, confident, more than likely well-endowed alpha male waltzes in to purchase a gift. To you, alpha male, I raise a glass. Because walking into VS without a woman is like walking in naked — either way, everyone stares.
Women, on the other hand, shop at VS for mainly one reason: Undergarments glazed in sex appeal are a super turn-on to the opposite (or same) sex. And who doesn’t want to be sexy?
The higher prices come from the craftsmanship needed to remove tiny cloth swaths, and usually butt coverage, from normal panties — and it’s totally worth it.
Bros, if nothing I’ve written has allowed you to openly embrace your desire to drop whatever you’re doing and head to the mall, you’re probably into dudes, which is fine (and arguably another incentive to shop there for the more feminine type).
Still need an excuse though? They sell men’s fragrances, too.
