Mentioning Unmentionables

I’m not certain what blogger category I would fall under. I don’t talk about baseball, books or movies enough to be a baseball, book or movie blogger. While I primarily talk about me and my reactions to stuff I’m not, for the most part, a confessionary type of blogger. First, there’s really not much that’s interesting in my life to blog about and second, I have The Closet which is full of shame-filled thoughts reminding me that even if I did have interesting things to blog about, you wouldn’t be interested in reading about them because, as you’d most likely say in your gentlest voice, “Not to hurt your feelings or anything dude, but I’m really not interested in what flavor croissant you had this morning or what you listened to on the radio last night.” Of course you wouldn’t really say that, but you might think it. I know, I don’t know that, but The Closet tells me you would. Silly thoughts.

Anyway, on to the subject of unmentionables. I didn’t come right out and say it, but I sort of mentioned I was going to write about unmentionables in the post title. You know what unmentionables are, right? Unmentionables, drawers, short clothes, shorts, skivvies. You know – underwear. If talk of unmentionables is embarrassing for you then this might be a good time to retweet this post or just click the Facebook button to share this will all your Facebook friends and stop reading.

Okay, you know the old proverb: “Forewarned, forearmed: burnt children dread the fire.“? You’ve been forwarned. Underpants  laying on the road ahead.

I’ve always been fairly conservative when it came to underwear. Growing up I was always a briefs guy. Really, there was never even an option that I remember. Not that I was actively looking around in gym class or talking about underpants with my friends, but when I was a kid I don’t think anyone wore anything but white briefs. I know I didn’t. Boxers were around, but those were underwear for old men. Like your dad. Many years later, I don’t remember how many years, buy many years after I was buying my own underwear, I discovered boxer briefs and they were all right and I gradually made the switch. I can’t really say I liked boxer briefs over briefs because I don’t think about underwear that much to either like or dislike any particular type. If the underwear are clean, if they don’t have holes and they fit then they’re fine and that’s the end of my thoughts about them.

A couple of weeks ago I was shopping at Target. By the way, they had a great deal on Kellogg’s Crunchy Nut cereal. It’s good stuff if you’ve never had it. I’m not too fond of the Caramel Nut or the Roasted Nut & Honey, but the Golden Honey Nut flakes are pretty tasty and I recommend them. If you try them let me know what you think. So anyway, I’m shopping at Target a couple of weeks ago and I’m getting some socks and I figure as long as I’m there I may as well get some new underwear. After a minute of wondering what I’d look like in a pair of men’s bikini underwear (who wears those anyway?) I move over to the boxer briefs. I’m looking for a pack with a nice color assortment so I’m pawing through the packages. I find a package with some nice subtle colors and pull it out and I notice they’re not boxer briefs, but regular old-fashioned boxers. The old guy kind. But you know what, they didn’t look all that bad rolled up inside the plastic wrapping and the colors were nice and while I was looking at them something, I don’t know what it was, could have been nothing more than a few seconds of abnormally loud tinnitus, rings in my head and I think, “What the hell, let’s do it.” Feeling bold, I toss the package of boxers my the cart with the socks and move off.

With that done I’m suddenly in a hurry to get out of the store. I’m not sure why, but it always bothers me having personal stuff – like unmentionables – in my shopping cart. People in stores are invariably nosy and they always like looking into other people’s carts and really, is it anyone’s business that I’m buying underwear? Or what brand of mouthwash I’m using? I don’t think so. So I get out of Target and get my stuff home; I wash the new boxers and socks and put them away and that’s the end of that. Gone and forgotten. This morning I open my dresser drawer and sitting on top of the pile is a pair of the new boxers. Hmm. The boxer decision that seemed like such a good idea in the store suddenly doesn’t seem like such a good idea anymore. I’m sort of yearning for my regular boxer briefs. Creature of habit and all that, you know?

Unfortunately, my options were limited and the clock was ticking so I grabbed the boxers and put them on and you know what, they weren’t half bad. No, they weren’t bad at all. It’s been a couple of hours later now and despite my 14-year old brain telling me that I’ve crossed over to being an old man today, I’m not unhappy. In fact, I’m pretty comfortable.

Thanks for reading.

Signed,
Old Man Boxers Wearing Guy