>>> Edited For Content
By staff writer Mike Forest
November 10, 2004

I bought new underwear the other day. My old ones were too stretched out and skidmarked, so I hopped in the ol’ beater and took a trip to Meijer (a gajillion reasons in one huge ass store). Picking out underwear is nowhere near as fun for guys as it is for girls. First of all, we don’t have anywhere near as many choices are you women do. We’ve got just a couple choices to make:

• Boxers
• Briefs
• Boxer briefs

I guess there's a little more involved than that. Namely, color. Okay, don't get your panties in a bunch, I’ll grant you that there are a couple more options than that. However, if you’re one of those guys who wears silk or those banana hammock things that the Jackass guys wear then I don’t know what to tell ya. We have nothing in common and I’m going to call your masculinity into question.

“You could at least make sure that tag is tucked in so it doesn’t look like your ass crack is surrendering.”

*Cough, cough* Fairy.

The second reason that we don’t really look forward to underwear day is that our underwear isn’t a fashion statement (unless you’re still stuck in a“Marky Mark” phase). Our unmentionables are simply for utility and not worth mentioning. We’re used to having our mothers buy them for us anyway.

Guy's underwear isn’t sexy like girl's. You ladies have g-strings, boy shorts, panties, high-cut panties, bikini briefs, granny panties and of course those thongs thongs thongs thongs thongs. Those are all sexy. (Even the granny panties.) Maybe it’s just me, but occasionally I'd rather just see women in their underwear. Is that weird? Maybe I should talk to my shrink about that.

Obviously I’m lying. I can’t afford a shrink. My shrink is that guy at the bus station who carries a teddy bear and speaks in something that resembles Pig Latin. He says I’m fine and prescribed a Tic-Tac. My breath is much fresher, but I keep having dreams about my fifth grade teacher. There’s ponies involved too. Ponies.

While we’re talking about girl's underwear (and we are), I think I speak for all guys when I say we love it when it peeks out from the back of your pants. Not in a creepy way. Personally, I’m just an ass man. I love me some ass. What I don’t understand is the little tag in the back. The beauty that is a tiny string running over the crack of your ass is marred by having a little tag. It totally ruins it for me. Is that tag even necessary? Do you HAVE to know what your panties are made of all the time?

“Hold on, Lacey. I don’t know what my panties are made of. I think they’re silk. Let me check…” A neck-tightening check that would confound a master contortionist ensures they are. “Yep, silk. They were inspected by Inspector #45. Hand wash only.”

It’s kind of tacky. Why don’t you rip that off like we do with our T-shirts when we turn them inside out because we’re done running our corporate-sponsored bar crawl and want to get wicked hammered because we weren’t allowed to drink (or smoke) during a SIX HOUR BAR CRAWL because its not a “professional image.” You could at least make sure that tag is tucked in so it doesn’t look like your ass crack is surrendering. My new underwear don’t even have tags. Now that’s some fucking technology, man.

I’m glad we don’t have to buy bras and worry about matching either. Since it’s a particular interest of mine, I’ve held “focus groups” featuring long, deep discussions with girls about their underwear. Some girls have to match all the time, but one girl told me that she usually doesn’t worry about matching unless she really needs some good luck. If she has an interview or a presentation, she wears matching bra and panties. Otherwise she doesn’t worry about it. Another female in my impartial poll said that was ridiculous. She informed me how expensive bras are and that it was crazy to worry about matching. She somehow made me feel bad like it was my fault that women are held to such high underwear standards. My bus stop shrink says it has to do with a guilt complex I have. That and something about my mother. I tipped him a Jujubee.

Anyway, I ended up getting a four-pack of boxer briefs (blue, light blue, black and green). I like the support that they offer 'cause usually my junk hangs real low and usually to the right. I also love the big-man feel that adult diapers—though convenient—just can’t offer. These new ones are not only infused with the label-free “natural comfort of cotton,” but they have a fabric-wrapped waistband that is soft against my skin. They are by far the most comfortable underwear Ihave ever owned. If you want to see them I might be interested, but only on a quid pro quo basis…much like Hannibal and Clarice had. I bet Jodie Foster still looks hot in her underwear.

Just in case you’re curious, I got new socks too. But socks aren’t funny. They’re just not.