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Silk Boxers are a Party In My Pants

14 October 2003

I’m wearing silk boxers, and man — this is seriously the way to go. Lots of freedom, and the nice caress of silk on my nether regions. I’m in a great mood. I always wore bikini briefs for most of my life (except as a kid, when it was exclusively tighty-whiteys or the occasional underoo), and never delved into the boxer arena until recently. I think it may have something to do with my dad. You see, my dad always wore boxers, for as long as I can remember, but they were… Okay, you have to know my dad for this to make sense, but first of all, he would wear really nasty cheap boxers made of thin cotton, and they’d always be stained, or torn, or both, and then there was the fly hole. My dad would walk around in his boxers, and scratch himself through his flyhole. I got to see my dad’s penis constantly because he wore those goddamn boxers. Of course, later in life he just stopped wearing underwear altogether (As my friend Lisa can attest to with the ‘stuff that back in your pants’ incident.) So, I had very bad associations with boxers, and I wanted something as far from what I witnessed as possible.
So recently, on a whim, I bought some boxers for my 31st birthday. I got red ones, because I was toga’ing up to be Mars, and I thought that red boxers would be a discreet way to keep my bits from showing. So I bought a pair. I love them. I love them so much Julie bought me another pair. Unfortunately, they’re expensive, and they have to be hand-washed, but Okay, fine — I could get used to that. I may not wear them every day, but every once in a while it’s a treat. Maybe I’ll try out some cotton ones — I’m just slowly working those childhood images out of my head. It may be a while before they’re purged.

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