Words by: Natalia Godinez
Art by: Steph Bridges

It was a typical Monday afternoon. I was in the communal laundry room, tackling the mountain of clothes that had piled up over the past week.

The communal dryers were humming along, and I was folding my clothes when, like a scene out of a rom-com, the guy I had a massive crush on walked in.

My heart did a little flip-flop as he strolled over, flashing that grin that always made my knees wobbly.

“Hey there,” he said casually, opening one of the dryers next to me. “Ugh, laundry day, right?”

I faked a laugh, trying to act chill while my mind raced. “Yeah, just trying to get it all done before I start dying with assessments.”

We started chatting about classes, the latest gossip from around res and our dislike for group projects. But my mind was only half on the conversation because, in the back of my head, I remembered that I had just washed my lacy black thong and bra.

Did I want him to know I was wearing this for someone else? What would he think of me? It’s probably better if he didn’t think anything at all.

Like I was on a mission to save the world, I hastily began pulling my clothes out of the dryer, one garment at a time. I thought I was in the clear, heroically avoiding potential embarrassment, until I heard his voice cut through my wishful thoughts.

“Oh, you dropped something.” he said, and as the unbothered gentleman he is, he had bent down to pick it up.

I looked down, and my stomach dropped. There, lying on the floor between us, was another item I should’ve remembered to hide: my old, reliable, comfy granny underwear.

In five slow-motion seconds, I watched his face transition from a helpful smile to wide-eyed realisation as he registered what he was holding.

I snatched it from him before both of our faces turned into the same shade of pink as my underwear. We both stood there awkwardly pretending the last few seconds hadn’t happened.

I was desperately searching for a way to salvage the situation when, to his credit, he smoothly revived the conversation by asking about my plans for the weekend. As I finished gathering my clothes and walked back to my room, laundry basket in hand, I couldn’t help but chuckle at how the day had turned out.

To this day, I wonder if he ever thinks of me and my reliable undies. Crushes may come and go, but granny undies? They are forever.