I wanted support. I asked for support. You never gave me the support I needed! I curse the day you were born. Baggy boxers you are the work of the devil!
All that air between your legs, your manhood swaying about like some kind of flag in a gale. I mean don’t get me wrong I like boxers, as long as there is some support there. I like the feeling of the warm snug hug the front cup provides you. That feeling of stability, it feels like when you wake up in a morning and the bed is so perfectly warm you don’t want to get out.
My addiction, if that’s what it is, started back in my late teens when I needed a quick shopping fix; underwear is one of the cheaper things in the shopping world (or so I thought). Now several years on, my underwear draw is bulging at the seams, if you pardon the pun.
The world of the brief, boxer, tanga, jockstrap and the Y-front is rapidly becoming a sort after industry. They’re literally fighting to get into my pants (draw), with brands and companies like Andrew Christian, Aussiebum and Banglads.com attempting infiltration from here and across the ponds.
Their use of suggestive “buy me” imagery and relentless barrage of e-mails (which I get sent to my phone), it’s no wonder my bank account suffers when a new offering gets dropped into my inbox(ers).
I wanted support. I asked for support. I got the support I needed, and it was in slender fitting pants all along. My relationship with briefs and underwear in general is trial and (mostly) error and I can tell you now that my life down under is not a brief encounter.