If I’ve learned anything from movies, it’s that red lipstick never needs to be touched up, the group of people you’re with when a popular song starts to play will always be equipped with the ability and desire to pull off an immaculately choreographed performance, and all women are natural-born temptresses waiting to be discovered.

That last bit of trivia was all I needed to convince me that the other night was the night that I was going to star in an untaped Agent Provacateur commercial. It was time to throw caution to the wind. It was time to squeeze my forearms together and try to pass my underarm fat off as cleavage.

It was time to seduce my boyfriend. I know — the plot holes are already big enough to hold a continent and we’ve only just begun.

Allow me to paint you a picture: I picked him up from work dressed in my knee-length red coat (major detail: ONLY my knee-length red coat) and my boots. My plan was to get home, take off the coat, and wait to be adored.

I just knew he was going to get into the car and feel that something special was on the horizon. He’d probably begin by telling me how great I looked, even though he had no idea. Except he got into the car and instantly said, “I need to stop at the grocery store.”

“… Now?” I asked. As I stepped on the gas, I noticed that the slits in my coat were pushing hip level. I felt like I was Sandra Bullock in every flick she’s ever been in.

“Yeah, that’d be good.”

Still thinking I could salvage the evening, I pulled into the grocery store. He got out of the car and looked at me expectantly.

“I think I’ll just wait in the car.”

“Why?”

I had two seconds to think of an inconspicuous excuse and I failed, so I got out of the car and marched towards the store. Two steps later, I noticed something I somehow hadn’t picked up on before — I was catching a certain breeze where one usually doesn’t experience such a sensation. I immediately changed formation, adapting a truly inspirational penguin-like strut while simultaneously using my handbag as a body shield.

As I continued the limited-angle peepshow throughout the cereal aisle, I came to appreciate the virtue of a well-stocked refrigerator. And, even in the harsh fluorescent lighting, I found myself appreciating my boyfriend standing there a few feet away, looking as handsome as he ever has.

I’m so lucky, I thought to myself. Even if we just go home and watch Friends, I’ll be satisfied. That’s how lucky I am. That feeling lasted all of two seconds because the next thing I knew, he was tilting his head suspiciously and staring at me in amusement.

“What the hell are you wearing?”

“Um.” Deep breath. “Laundry day.”