today i chose to buy a new 6-pack of boxer briefs from super target rather than do laundry.
that's how much i love and need my wifey.
In all my many years on this floating rock, some good, some bad...some where I was alone and others surrounded by family...years where I had no woman, and years where I had my fair share...I can say this truth with a clean heart and clear eyes:
I have never bought my own underwear. Ever.
There's always been a woman in my life who's felt sorry enough about the state of the gitch I'm wearing to buy me new ones. Maybe they think it's a personal touch from them to me; maybe they just think what I wear is gross; maybe they think that the underoos I have on belong to the woman before them (because I tell every woman this boring anecdote about my life...which might explain a few things...), and they can't live knowing another woman has pawed the cottony garments that caress my nether regions...
Whatever the case may be, I've never bought my own underwear. And now that I've lived this long having never done it, it's become more of a personal challenge to never have to do it.
Although, I must admit I'm tempted to think about it from time to time. I mean, what kind would I buy, if I took the crotchal region supportive plunge? Would I go boxers? Or lean more towards the supportive yet stylish boxer brief? Or rock it Quebec-style in a pair of tighty whities? Perhaps a thong in honor of my membership to getbig? Something from the Nasser El Sonbaty collection, then? Or maybe be a kid again and find some man-sized Spiderman or airplane pull-ups? I suppose the options are quite endless. But for now, that's just a fantasy.
For me, the reality is simple; I've outsourced the clothing of my groin to the women in my life. It seems to be working, but then, how would I know any better?
