Would you believe I used to cut off the tiny bows on lingerie? Snip! And they’d slip away. It always seemed that bows were too cute. For a long time I didn’t want to be cute, because cute is often used as a consolation prize word when pretty or beautiful aren’t quite what the speaker means. I spent a long time denying cute and playing up beautiful and sexy or wanton not thinking that the answer could be “all of the above”. This little set boasts two bows, the cleavage-nestled one seen here and one on the shorts. Double bows are double cute, right?
“Purple seemed more appropriate than red … because, well, your name.” I took the roses from him and he shrugged off his coat without hesitation, stooped to untie his boots and tucked his gloves into them. The roses were too cold to be fragrant, the crisp cellophane collar around them fogged with condensation after being brought in from the winter night. “It’s really coming down out there. Feel – cold hands!” He chuckled and slipped his icy hands under the back of my sweater. I winced and he kissed me, part hello, part apology. I stepped back, feigning a smile and turning to take the flowers to the kitchen. He…