My Dirty Little Secret

I can’t undo a bra.

If you’re new to this blog then you might be wondering what the big deal is with that.  If you are familiar, you might find this to be a bit of a shock.  I am a bit of a… let’s say, ” pervert”.  Pervert?  Maybe that’s harsh.  Tart?  Skank?  I don’t know, I like to get down.  I like to do it often and I’m single, so draw your own conclusions.  I don’t do it as often as I would like and sometimes I feel like the amount that I do do it has become unfairly exaggerated.  I’m sure that I can probably blame myself for that, especially the early 20’s me.  But whatever, the point is that I get around enough, whether in truth or by legend, that I should really know how to undo a bra.

Look, I know dudes who can undo a bra with one hand, blindfolded, drunk, and running a marathon or whatever.  I don’t get it.  I have no idea how the fuck they are doing this.  I have no idea how the fuck women do it on their own bras.  Sersiously, that shit is behind your back!  HOW THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING THAT?!?!? I have tried and tried and tried.  I have watched youtube videos, read how-to’s, and even jacked into the Matrix to try and aquire this skill.  I just can’t fucking do it.  I’M FUCKING 30, I SHOULD BE ABLE TO PULL THIS OFF!!!

It’s actually a huge embarrassment.  The bedroom is one of the few places that I feel comfortable and even there I find some bit of human interaction that makes me all awkward and uncomfortable.  It’s at a point where I usually end up circumventing the issue by basically being a jackass.  I squeeze a hand underneath the bra.  Sometimes from the top.  Sometimes from the bottom.  Usually slip around the side from the bottom and get at them from there.  Sometimes the bra is too tight and not stretchy enough for me to squeeze my hands in, so I just kinda play with them over the bra.  Every now and then, I give the clasps another try and every now and then it turns out to be an easy version, like velcro or a single, really big hook.  Sometimes it’s a front-hook, and then I feel really dumb.  But usually the bra just kinda finds its own way off… I don’t know, wriggles off over the top of her head or she just kinda undoes it herself.

This one time, sadly not very long ago, the awkward got turned all the way up to 11.  After doing my move where I just play with the boobs under the bra for long enough to realize that I wasn’t going to get off the hook (ha!), I gave the task a try.  I fiddled.  I fumbled.  I toyed and I tooled.  I must have messed with that stupid bra for five minutes, and she was well aware that I was struggling.  Mid makout, she started giggling.  As the giggle simmered into more of a chuckle, I broke off the makeout to crack a joke and ease the tension, tensions that I was probably alone in having.  I don’t remember what it was that I said but it was funny enough to keep her on board and for me to ease up a little.  Then I said something about how, “I don’t know why they make these things so hard to undo, don’t they know that guys all over the world are struggling with this?” and the laugh became an all out, hearty guffaw.

Thankfully, the laughter actually works for me.  There are plenty of different approaches to knockin’ boots and I feel like mood is always a big part of it.  If the situation isn’t meant to be heavy, passionate, and blisteringly hot, then I’d much rather it be fun than hardcore.  Funtime in the bedroom makes it easier for both consenting adults to take down their walls, back off of their inhibitions, and just have a great time.  So to cap off the story, she ended up undoing the bra herself and we had some fun.  And I don’t think she stopped giggling until we finished.  Some might find that embarrassing, but I rather liked it.

I think my problem either stems back to some time that I couldn’t manage to undo a bra and things didn’t work out and I just don’t remember because it was so traumatizing that I just blocked it out.  Actually, that seems a little unlikely.  It seems more likely that I’m just afraid of breaking the damn thing and then I’m just an asshole who couldn’t keep his hands to himself.  Or something like that.

tl;dr – I can’t undo bras, it’s terribly embarrassing, a touch of armchair psychology, and a story about me being a boob while trying to get at some boobs.

Whatever, dude.  Butts are better than boobs, anyway.


I said it.