I don’t trust a grown man in whitey tighties, I just don’t. I always wondered what kind of circumstances a man would have to endure throughout his life into adulthood that would make him want to freely wear whitey tighties? But then again I’ve always been too nervous to ask my grandfather as well. It’s probably something I don’t really understand but involves a lot of cats (or maybe cat videos on YouTube). See I switched out of whitey tighties by at least the eighth grade (nerd alert!). But my transition through men’s underwear garments after that went pretty quickly. Before my sophomore year I had switched to boxers and have recently transitioned into boxers with the elastic waistbands (best of both worlds).
In case you’ve gotten the image of your grandfather in whitey tighties out of your head I wanted to remind you of that before moving on (or put it in if you hadn’t had it).
Almost like it was planned in order for this post to move on I’m going to have to go to the past. Oh not very far in the past but just a few months back around the beginning of summer. I was talking to an old tall college buddy for the first time in years and catching up. It was great to hear from my sister (GCU inside joke) and how well he and his family were doing. That’s a pretty common theme with all my friends; you know a normal life that moves on.
That something fairly recent I’m noticing that I’m going to have to try to learn to live with and that’s watching a lot of others move on with their lives around me. Sure it’s a little tough when it doesn’t feel like I’m moving on but you know I’m overall happy because these peeps are my family and friends. However a couple weeks back I kind of got blindsided and it wasn’t pretty.
So to backtrack again back to my tall college sister’s conversation with me and something he said that kind of resonated with me:
“I know you probably can’t see it because you’re in the trenches taking grenades but you’re doing something pretty special…” then he started talking about his kids or wife so I zoned out (I kid, I kid).
Well a couple weeks back while successfully being the wrong candidate for a job in A-Town I must of took a gay bomb in those trenches because I…
(Haha I’m probably the only one who thinks that joke is funny.) But seriously finding out that a few of the finer examples of mankind (that was really sarcastic they’re actually dicks) that I hadn’t seen in five years were getting to move on with their lives, and it felt like I wasn’t felt like, well I can’t think of anything clever so it felt shitty.
It took me a couple weeks to kind of get over it and try to deal with it I guess. Sure I’m jealous-much (well just a little jealous but I feel I haven’t introduced new slang in awhile) when I see others moving on with their lives around me but I am usually happy (I’m not perfect) for them. Man seeing some of these real stand up guys (sarcasm again) get to move on with their lives when I don’t think they deserve it was just shitty.
But I think (and probably hope more than a little bit) that I’m just in a transition going on with me and it’s tough to see because I’m taking grenades and southern gay bombs like left and right. Maybe as much as I wanted a resemblance of my old life before the BMD diagnosis it probably isn’t going to happen. I don’t think that means my life is going to be worse than it was before and honestly I’m not real sure what it’s going to look like now. I’m pretty positive though I’m not going to be the grandfather with just whitey tighties on, but a banana hammock could be fun.
Since many of my manic experiences involve music I’ve decided to add random music videos to the blog for my enjoyment and your inconvenience. Enjoy!