Close One (or potentially 3!)

"Close one!"

That was my thinking last week when I was wearing one of my favorite pairs of boxer shorts.

I don’t remember when I started wearing boxer shorts, but I know the radio station Eagle 106 was still around, because they were an Eagle 106 pair. I remember them well because they were made of this horrific material that was so stiff the “pee hole” was always open, kind of defeating the purpose of underwear at all. If that wasn’t bad enough, my Mom won them for me.

And thus I entered the world of boxer shorts.

There are many stories I could share, such as the “white” Homer Simpson boxers I destroyed…the less detailed the better on this one, but note “white” is in quotes. There’s the light pair I accidentally dyed pink. I continued to wear them, because who would ever know? Then, and perhaps the greatest boxer story known to man, there was my infamous “Bullwinkle” boxers. I wore them to France (no underpants poem coming up). And decided they should, like many works or Art, remain in the Louvre. I have a map indicating where I hid them. Some day I hope to go back and see if they are still there. France is pretty dirty. I’m thinking they are.

So the other day, I put on one of my favorite pairs. They’re supportive. They’re comfortable. They’re one of the pairs that make my day better when their turn comes up. We all have pieces of clothes like this. Which makes you wonder why you hang on to the ones that don’t make you fell like this. I put them on last week and went off into the dangerous world of boxer wearing…

I saddled up to the urinal like a cowboy’s known to do and did what cowboys did…besides running the Natives off their land. Although I guess in a way there was a similarity…that is if the cowboys had asparagus the night before. I finished and pulled the zipper up…and got caught!

Here’s the thing that the ladies will never understand…er…at least I hope they never understand…can you snag a labia in your zipper? Because if you could, you should probably be in the circus. Every guy, at some point in his life will “catch himself.” It just happens. It’s usually not something you feel right away. You think, “Did I?” but you there’s no pain. Then it HITS! *WHAM-O!

*I did notice that I have WHAM, “getting caught” and men’s rooms in this past sentence. I dedicate it to George Michaels.

I felt resistance, which causes an immediate stoppage of zippering. I looked down and realized, not unlike the Secret Service, my boxers took one for the Commander in Shorts. Will they get a metal? Unlikely. Will they be remembered in a text book for children to read about for years to come? No, but as previously mentioned one of their contemporaries is in the Louvre. Will they just get thrown into the trash and become another discarded piece of clothing eventually worn by a homeless man? Maybe…but not yet. I am happy to say I am wearing them as I write this.

They’re my favorite pair, how could I simple toss them aside especially after they took one for the team (I refer to my parts as a team, as we’re all in this together).

So next time you put on some article of clothing that is near a dear to your heart, stop a moment and enjoy that feeling, especially if your “heart” happens to be in your crotch.