No guy talks about what underwear he wears. They will walk around them proudly in the locker room after swimming, but any discussion related to underwear is “gay” talk. And the word “gay” doesn’t mean homosexual at all. Gay means “You are being too much of a woman/wuss!”
It happens when guys talk about feelings.
Or remotely acknowledging that “The Devil Wears Prada” is a watchable movie.
Or going up to a guy because he looks sad and saying, “Dude, are you OK?”
“WTF is wrong with you?! Why is your hand on my back?! WTF?!”
Like emotions, talks about underwear are buried deep down the pit we call masculinity. The pit contains many things. Like pent up discussions about conditioners, Nicholas Sparks novels, crying in the night, and loving Katy Perry songs.
I have a masculinity pit too. I keep a lot inside it. I started hardcore cycling recently, where I cycle more than a hundred kilometres in a week. I wear briefs and that led to a lot of chafing. Now, chafing near your loins is an extremely uncomfortable thing, and then it burns and then you have to treat it like it’s a puppy with feelings.
And you know what’s even worse, not getting to talk about the pain you go through.
So, I am going to talk underwear. Explicitly. Detailed. Contours and all.
Have you seen those men on the road, you call “uncultured” when they reach out to their groin and scratch their itch down there, and it looks disgusting. It is because of poor underwear choice. Nothing else.
BriefsSay, if the male “dong” is a person, then the brief is like an overprotective boyfriend who likes tight hugging, all the time. And just like that the relationship becomes very closed and stuffy. Very less room to breathe even though everything feels secure.
Secure as a bank.
Good for hiding boners in public.
Looks good on a good body.
Hell in summer.
Chafing in the thighs.
Ride up the butt crack. Sometimes.
No breathing space. At all.
Have you seen those antique grandfather clocks? Have you seen the pendulum in them and how freely it swings?
That’s how free it is inside a boxer. Boxers are the Sweden of freedom. If your “dong” could smoke marijuana in there, your boxer would let it.
Freedom to swing.
Hell is a boner in boxers.
Everything touches everything in there.
Doesn’t go well with tight pants.
Space for boners with concealment too!
It is not fair. Women have every kind of data there is to choose their innerwear, and we do not. For them it is so specific, there are numbers and alphabets. Their specification is literally alphanumeric and what do we men have?
It is either S, M, L, XL and embarrassingly L.
And we don’t even know how to choose. What if I am a small guy with a large “small guy”?
What if I am a large guy with a small “small guy”?
And you cannot even address the situation. No discussions, no, nothing. I think we should have the freedom to discuss this topic.
We should discuss it freely, like your “small guy” – in the ample space of boxer shorts.