The Secret of the Ancient Underpants

Men have quirks when it comes to wardrobe. I submit that the average man has:

+ 2 favourite shirts

+ 1 favourite pair jeans

+ 9 favourite pair sox

+ 1, perhaps 2 favourite pair shoes

and most importantly,

+ 3 favourite pair underpants.

Man's relationship with his smalls exasperates many women when they discover that these three pairs of beloved underduds are in less than pristine condition. Indeed, it's possible that they're weeks, months, or - in extremis - years past euthanasia. Clearly, there's something going on here.

My explanation for men keeping their boxers, briefs and/or tighty whities beyond their use-by date is simple, if unusual. Ready? Underpants have a soul. I don't mean soul in the southern fried way; I mean that each individual item has a spirit that differentiates it from all others. Open a three-pack of underoos and you find three different personalities. One will be okay, nothing special, one might perhaps be too tight, biting in the wrong places, and one might be the perfect combo of comfort and utility.

The process is the same as meeting three new people. After two or three social occasions (or, in underwear-speak, two or three wearings) we pick the company we like. We connect with some people (undertrou) more than others. Men value loyalty, so it follows that we want to stay with our friends (fave undies) until the bitter end.

That's why we have a drawer full of jockey acquaintances, but only a handful of daggy, saggy, holey, faded but hugely loved underpants. They're our friends.



Bottoms Up, Men Who Rock the Bikini.

Lessons From My Cat - Part 3

Critical to understanding the cat is the fact that they don't see the world so much as smell it. Yes, cats have beautiful eyes, but they see only in black-and-white, and their vision is tuned to detect movement. Consider the mouse, dinner in prospect for your average tabby - it's not important to see what colour the mouse is, only how fast it's moving and in what direction. The way they process the information the world provides them is finely aligned with their survival.

Women don't chase mice, as far as I know. Their eyesight is the same as ours, but what they "see" is different. In other words the way they process the same sensory input varies wildly from men. 

For instance, when I see an interesting woman walking down the street, I'll ponder...

~ what kind of bra she's wearing

~ what her pussy might look like

~ whether she'd laugh at my jokes

~ how she'd react to my touch

...until I see the next attractive woman, whereupon the process begins again.

Women, like cats, don't prioritize the same thing. When a woman spies a man she finds attractive, she won't walk past him with her tongue hanging out. Without missing a beat, she'll...

~ figure where he buys his clothes

~ guess what kind of car he drives

~ decide if he's in a relationship

~  if the answer to the above is 'yes', work out whether she's hotter than his girlfriend

~ estimate his income to within a few hundred dollars per year

...which is self-evidently a different assessment process.




Cats have a very clearly defined hierarchy of needs for which they are immensely well evolved. When all their needs are met, they're able to relax, for the most part, but the call of the wild is never too far away. Domesticity works, as long as it's on their terms.

That's what makes them eternally fascinating.


Bottoms Up, Mouse-Chasers.

Single Effort - Book Review

The first rule of 'how to' books is: Know your audience.

In the case of "Single Effort: How to Live Smarter, Date Better, and Be Awesomely Happy" Joe Keller succeeds, mostly because he writes for himself. That's a good thing, because there are many guys like him looking for help, even if they don't know it.

Keller is a divorced father, a demographic (sadly) on the increase. His book isn't a narrative about the changes divorce wrought in his life, but it could be. What he's done is to catalogue the bridges he crossed and the hills he climbed after his split, and provide nicely succinct solutions to a lot of the problems he found.

For instance, creating a home. Many guys probably left home decoration to their wives. Now they're on their own, they need to think about how to set up a household that works for them and their children. Guys tend not to think in specifics in this area. A bed, a couch, a television and somewhere to put their car keys will often be the extent of their exploration. But we like a stylish place as much as women - it's just that we don't know where to start. A few clear-cut pointers go a long way, and Keller does so without condescension. Again, he knows his likely readership, because he is his readership.

That's the heart of this book. Keller shines his word-processing flashlight into the areas most guys tend to overlook; how to set up a kitchen, how to cook a few basic dishes, how to clean (a favourite of mine) and not least, how to date. Some of the information is as basic as it comes...how to choose cleaning products, or how to choose wine, for example. Some guys will already know much of this. But revising the fundamentals of life in this way is refreshing to see, and good for we men in the sense that we know we have the important stuff covered.

Naturally, Keller also dives into how to date as a new singleton. His philosophy partially aligns with mine, in that he's a real-world dating advocate. Joining volunteer groups or a fitness club, taking classes or simply being in the community are all suggestions as to how to meet women. Frankly, I'm not certain that a divorced man with minor children should be out there dating. The kids already have enough chaos in their lives. However, people will fall to their urges, and at least the advice here is practical.

There is one chapter about online dating - I guess no book like this would be complete without such a thing.

Clearly, this book is a winner on two levels. Firstly, the author's tone is pitch-perfect. He neither talks down to his reader, nor does he patronize them. Secondly, he doesn't overlook the mundane; that alone sets him apart, because the guy who buys and uses the right cleaning products in his water closet is the guy who gets the girl.


Bottoms Up, Detail Oriented Daters.

The Boner Gap

An awkward few seconds lurk in the space between knowing she's ready and crossing the moat. The preparatory work is done, according to the following checklist:

A. Girl nearby.

B. Aroused girl nearby.

C. At least partially naked girl nearby.

(Note: These first three points might be the same girl, or three, YMMV.)

D. Boner. (Your own.)

E. Condom.



Okay, now to connect your erect penis with the willing pussy. Time to bust out the condom.

Quickly now, the clock's running.

Another checklist:

A. Locate condom.

B. Tear open condom packet.

C. Retrieve that sucker from the packet.

D. Make sure you avoid the inside-out error.

E. Roll condom on penis.

F. Fully unfurl said prophylactic.

G. Insert properly outfitted manhood into luscious love trench.



What's the timing on that? Should we say between ten and thirty seconds?

We need a name for that gap. My suggestions include:

The Boner Gap.

The Keep it Up Interregnum.

Don't Let me Down, Dude, Gap.

Say Flaccid and I'll Kill You Gap.

The Why Hasn't Condom Packaging Improved in 100 Years Gap.

The How Bad Would a Baby Be Anyway? Gap.






Bottoms Up, Condomistas!


Pic of pigtailed aweseomeness from here [link]

Hat-tip to Snaf for the inspiration.

Holes in Socks

Manliness is many things. The many things include knowing how to repair a balky carburettor, the ability to distinguish cows from bulls, and panache when stringing a tennis racquet. Others don't necessarily see it this way, but eventually everyone comes to understand that the quality "Man" doesn't reside in your trousers.

Which is a nice segue into the problem with men and trousers, and our clothing items in general. We have favourites. Yes, I know it's progressive and compassionate not to discriminate, but the fact remains that all guys pick winners among their wardrobe.

I, for instance, own many shirts, but the one closest to my heart is a putty-coloured camp shirt. It just feels so right, and I know that I will wear it way beyond the point at which it should be a car-wash de-greasing rag. Way beyond.

This is a common thread thread in most men's lives. Once we find the perfect pair of jeans, we'll wear them until they're more hole than denim. Socks, the same. Underduds, the same. We simply cannot bring ourselves to toss out perfectly serviceable garments (oh, and shoes, too) in favour of new stuff.

We like our friends, and mistrust strangers. It's part of being a man.


Bottoms up, fashionistas.





Pic from here [link]

Fashion

Prancing around like jail-house sissies, today's young men baffle me. Do they not realize that - in prison culture, at least - wearing one's belt sub-buttocks exposing the underpants is an invitation to sodomy?

I was reminded of the vagaries of men's fashion by this passage from a book I'm reading about the Battle of Trafalgar.

In response to this need for courtesy and delicacy, wide swathes of English 18th century life became fragile and dainty, in a way that no age in England, before or since, has managed. It became possible, for the first and only time, for a perfectly serious man to attend ceremonies at court in 'a lavender suit, the waistcoat embroidered with a little silver or of white silk work worked in the tambour, partridge silk stockings , gold buckles, ruffles and lace frill.'

Partridge silk stockings and lace frills? I bet they'd go down a treat in the iron-bar motel. Watch for them in the Hollister and Abercrombie summer collections.



Quotation from "Seize the Fire. Heroism, Duty, and the Battle of Trafalgar" by Adam Nicolson.