Originally posted 9.21.2006
Anyone who is living (and that includes pretty much all of us, except for maybe Larry King) has probably noticed that men tend to ride the same pair of boxers for years on end. Essentially, our only requirement for underwear is that it form a protective barrier between our zipper and our manhood.
Thus, we stick with our boxers until they can no longer serve this function, which usually means the underwear has disintegrated, become a part of the atmosphere and been carried away by a nitrogen molecule which, if it is a male nitrogen molecule, has given the boxers particle a quick sniff and put it on.
Women, of course, find this repulsive, which is the only reason men every buy new underwear. In fact, men would probably still be living in caves, walking around naked and communicating in well-timed scratches and gutteral noises if women did not demand a basic level of civility from us.
We go to dance clubs because girls go do dance clubs. We clean our bathrooms because girls like clean bathrooms. We buy fancy shirts with stripes and buttons because girls like fancy shirts with stripes and buttons.
(Incidentally, we buy pink polo shirts and pop the collars because we’re homosexuals and other men like pink polo shirts with popped collars. But that is neither here nor there.)
I think, to varying degrees, women are aware of this phenomenon — that we spend a great deal of effort solely to make ourselves presentable to women. This it seems would make for an empowering feeling, particularly for women being pursued by multiple potential suitors. On the other hand, I have no idea what it is like being constantly approached with bad pickup lines, offered free drinks and insincere compliments and asked for “dates,” although, as a man, that sounds fantastic. I think that’s what it’s like being in a rock band, which explains why so many men, who would never touch a piano or a trumpet, want to play guitar.
If you’re waiting for some profound point to come out of all this, you probably have not yet realized this blog is being generated by a mind barren of profundities.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some underwear shopping to do.