Why My Underwear Is on Your Radiator: A Sincere Apology

Please accept my sincerest apology for my underwear on your radiator, I know we’ve never met. But when the door was opened at seven in the evening, you were occupied with your friend, the trash, and the dog. It was the only thing I could leave behind before our unprecedented introduction could occur.

This neighbourhood used to be safe; the expensive houses were all serenely laid out. It was as calming as the creeping night and as soft as the fur of your dog, right up until he peed on me while I was reaching for your wallet on the brown dresser. I hope you found your Audemars PIGLET Royal Oak watch; I placed it neatly right next to my chewing gum. I do hope you don’t mind a bit of saliva on the strap. I am truly sorry about that.

***

You might wonder why I was in a state of nakedness, although it is more precise to say I was under duress near your heating system. I tend to go where it is warm, and I do have a cold. I didn’t actually get into your swimming pool; I found your ‘no trespassing’ sign akin to popping the balloon, a rejection I felt was quite unfair. Especially when your security team forced their way around me to have a look, as if they have never seen a beautiful naked woman before.

I have heard the modern dating market is quite a treacherous landscape to navigate, particularly for a man of your distinguished status and previous marital entanglements. It was out of a sense of altruism that I rescued your wife’s photo frame from the trash. I’ve hung it on my wall; it serves as a lovely memento mori for the life you’ve left behind.

***

Regarding my underwear: they require a few more moments of your radiator’s hospitality to reach their desired dryness. I would appreciate it if you could exercise a touch more patience before you come after me. It would be a shame to ruin our fresh connection over a smelly gusset.

While I hide my dignity under your car, yes, I have returned, as I couldn’t bear to be judged by the superficial onlookers. I think you should know that the saliva of a woman of my bigness is quite a functional gift. It contains amylase enzymes and specific properties that help to obliterate any fingerprints I may have left on your belongings.

You wouldn’t want to lose me to the police officers over such a minor misunderstanding, would you? Considering the dire condition of the dating market, a woman with my level of biological efficiency is a rare find.

***

You have a lovely car; most people only admire the paint, but I’ve developed a certain affinity for the underbelly. However, that is beside the point. Whatever you do, I must insist that you do not drive it today.

You see, I grew somewhat restless while waiting for the radiator to finish its work, and I happened to pull on one of the brake lines. It snapped with a rather definitive pop, and I am sure you realise by now that the car won’t be stopping at any lights in the near future. I’ve always felt that friction is a tyranny over a smooth drive, anyway. Besides, does anyone really need a stoplight? It’s not as if the gender wars ever had one, right? My sincerest apologies for the inconvenience.

***

My hair possesses a luminous quality thanks to the neon war paint of the antifreeze, and my skin has taken on the depth of a polished obsidian. Please, do not ask questions; I am quite famous on Instagram, and this look is destined to go viral.

The only remaining issue is that I may be too alluring for my own safety. A collection of bees and ants are currently nipping at my heels, but surely you don’t feel jealous? They are leaving their marks because I am the finest flower ever to have grown from your driveway’s concrete. You’re concerned over nothing.

Since the dawn is fast approaching, you might want to take a dip under the radiance of the sunrise. I invite you to lay a while with me under your car until the day fully breaks. You will find this note, which I have squished through your letter box, before you venture outside.

***

Before you open the door, do brush your hair the way we like it. Also, could you fetch the Cheetos from the pantry? If you have already depleted that supply, a tin of beans would do just fine, unless, of course, you have already prepared the salmon in the fridge. I realise it might be a trifle early, and for that, I am truly sorry. But do not forget the beans; and do have the decency to remove the lid with your red tin opener, place them on a proper plate, and warm them in your brand new microwave.

P.S. If the Audemars Piglet starts ticking a bit slower, just give it another lick. Our saliva will mix in the gears, a perfect marriage of chemistry and horology. The enzymes work wonders on Swiss movements. How about that bacon in the fridge?