Happy National Underwear Day…!

A Coming Out Story…Episode 10  

Actually, the real object of my affections back then wore BVDs.  Most days I could tell anyway.  But I thought Jockeys were sexier back then (though I wouldn’t admit it) and so I used a little artistic license there. 

Back when I was still trying to convince myself that I wasn’t gay, oddly enough I could tell exactly what kind of underwear a guy was wearing just by getting the slightest glimpse of the waistband…usually in gym class.  If I could see enough of the stitching through a guy’s gym shorts, or if he was wearing his pants tight enough, I could tell that way too.

"T.K." used to drive me absolutely nuts whenever he was out on that tennis court.  Not only did he wear his gym shorts very tight…tight enough that I could clearly see the lines of his underwear…he’d wear a loose t-shirt that didn’t quite go all the way down his waist.  So every time he took a swing at the ball I’d get a glimpse of his stomach…and that little bit of elastic waistband.  At 17, it was electrifying.  For the life of me I couldn’t turn my eyes away.  But I knew I wasn’t sexually attracted to guys. 

If you’d asked me anything back then about women’s lingerie I wouldn’t have had clue one.  Matter of fact, I still don’t.  For a bit of fun…hang out at the Victoria’s Secret at your local shopping mall and watch guys as they walk by.  Most of them just can’t not look…even if their wives or girl friends are with them.  And some are completely oblivious.  That would be me, usually.  Too bad there isn’t a men’s equivalent store chain.  I’d make it a point to stroll past its window every time I walked in a mall with one.

At the end of episode ten, my libido warns my teenage self that things get more complicated after they invent designer underwear.  But it’s a happy complexity…