Monday, October 30, 2006

Tighty Whities

Few things turn me off faster or more than a man in little boy underwear. White briefs are like the equivalent of anti-Viagra for me. Just, YUCK!

I am sure this has something to do with the fact that is the type of underclothing all of the male people in my family wear, and have worn since I can remember. Obviously I did not find this hot. My father always aggravated me by walking around in his underwear. My Dad asserted, "this is my fucking house, I pay the bills, and I will do as I please, if you don’t like it there is the door." You cannot imagine the shock and horror he experienced when he uttered a similar sentence and I left. To paraphrase what we later discussed, after I had lived on my own a sufficient amount of time to be able to have a conversation with my father that did involve high volume voices, my Dad told me he was thinking, "holy shit I raised a kid who not only calls my bluffs, but also does not bluff herself, I’m fucked. I guess this is good though, since this kid will always be straight with me."

Besides the fact that the men in my family, who I consider the romantic equivalent of the DON’T page at the back of Glamour magazine, all wear tighty whiteys, I also have found in my life that I do not have much desire for men who in the end turn out to prefer this type of under garment. It seems like men who prefer this type of underpants have in a lot of ways not ever grown up, continuing to wear, if not literally, at least symbolically, the underpants their Mommy brought them. Oh, puhleaze honey, get a life, grow up, experiment, get some grown up gotchies for the love of God!

It might help to mention here that I was pretty old when I left home, which I understand is actually pretty much par for the course in wacko families. I wanted to be able to stay gone when I left as all my siblings had been boomerang children at some point, and until the day they died my parents were being routinely mooched off of by two of my siblings. Not me though. When I was much younger, and still living at home, actually, several years before I moved out, I had a boyfriend who I really liked a lot. Enough to find out he wore tighty whiteys. This was so not cool with me. I told him I did not like them. I told him I did not like them because they were the kind my Dad wore and it creeped me out. I told them I did not want him to touch me anymore, the underpants were too creepy.

Being a guy, a pretty young and inexperienced one at that, he thought I was weird. Luckily for us, he had a very close family. That same evening he went on some male bonding ritual thing with his Dad, uncles, and Grandpas. One Grandpa, who had met me in the past, asked after me. My darling man informed his Grandpa that I was a weird freaky girl. Of course at this point everyone was intrigued, all the other men being significantly older knowing that, of course, weird freaky women are the best kind. He explained my aversion to tighty whiteys as well as the reasons why I had such an aversion. So you what happened then?

That is right K-mart shoppers, they all went shopping for new underpants for my man. They explained to him that if a woman tells you something she really wants, and you can give it to her you are a moron not to give it to her. They taught him that when a woman tells you something that upsets her you do what you can to make it not happen. They taught him that if a woman trusts you enough to tell you what creeps her out, you owe it to her not to be a creep. Man did we have fun trying out all the underpants they got him; they got every kind to try so we could see which kinds we both liked. We ended up liking boxers best. No creepo factor whatsoever for me, plus this accentuated his Obsession Ad ass off of which you could have bounced a quarter. They were comfortable for him in providing adequate dance space, his attempt to politely say they had enough "ball room" for his private parts, and they did not get all bunchy in his pant legs like he feared. So everybody was happy, and to this day, even though he is now an old married guy with kids, and I am still a weird freak, we both think this is funny, we both remember this fondly, and all the men in his family remember the freaky girl who hates tighty whities.

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