Going Commando: The Only Way To Live
I have a confession. I don’t wear underwear. I’m a 23 year old male who wears suits or slacks five days a week, and I never wear anything underneath ‘em. I’m here today, foremost, to champion this cause, to let every male out there know that you don’t have to go on wearing cotton under-things that hug too tight or persistently wedge in your crack. I’m here today to proclaim that I won’t idly stand by any longer, hearing folks bash my beloved passion for a more freeing fashion.
There are some of you out there who like to make snide comments, suggest vicious preconceived notions about what must be happening in or around my trousers, and I am here to speak out and stop that. Perhaps after today, history will view me as the vanguard of men everywhere enjoying a nice breeze as it passes through our legs, or perhaps after today, my office will find out about this and suggest I take an absence of the more permanent kind. But regardless of what occurs, I will say the truth and nothing but the truth so help me god. That truth being I don’t wear underwear and nothing will make me go back. Nothing.?
It all started a few years ago, I was beginning to date a young woman and as one might imagine, I became acquainted with what her personal choice of under things tended to be; that choice being a whole lot of nothing. Being the curious man I am, I inquired about her constant lack of underwear when the time seemed right. She informed me that yes, indeed, she had not been wearing underwear for a few years and that she was never going back. ?
“WHAT? HOW?” I asked her, “I could never do such a thing. What about cleanliness? Won’t I sweat more? And what about support, won’t I miss the gentle “cradle of cotton” provided for me since birth?” Well, she knew little about this gentle cradling of jewels that went on inside men’s pants but she said that it’s much more comfortable, that things fit a little better, and this way she can save on buying lingerie or replacing underwear. I marveled at her rejection of modern society. I mean, I had always grown up knowing that men similar to me (such as Jay-Z) always prefer their women in “no panties and jeans, that’s so necessary,” but I hadn’t really encountered any who had taken Jigga Man’s gospel to heart. ?
Well, it is safe to say that I had to try this for myself, and, slowly, I did. At first, I just wouldn’t wear underwear with my tight skinny jeans because that made the most logical sense. I worried about my lack of support in some of my looser fitting slacks, but months came and went and I am here to tell you that today, I no longer find it necessary at all to wear them. There is one exception, as there always is, and that’s when I’m exercising. Whether I’m at yoga or outside for a jog, I know it’s for the best that I wear them. But other than that, I happily wake up in the morning and slip on pants-not-undies after my shower. ?
Let me clear the air here for those of you who are wondering what it’s like after a hard day’s work and I’ve gone commando: it’s great. I am pretty sure I sweat and smell less than my under-wearing counterparts. And why wouldn’t I? There is less fabric wrapped around my junk and thus more space for me to, well, vent. Now I wouldn’t recommend this style if you don’t wash regularly but then again I wouldn’t really recommend washing irregularly to begin with. You know what? Consider me a champion of that cause, too. Please everyone, wash yourself. ?
There are other benefits besides it being a more hygienically sound, less sweat-filled lifestyle. How about the fact that I have one less layer to complicate matters when someone decides to passionately engage with me in the art of undressing? No more underwear around the ankles, or frantic moments getting everything off. Just a quick fasten of my belt and button on my pants and boom, birthday suit. ? Think of all the money I save not buying new underwear. How often do you buy new underwear? You probably don’t do it enough and with my way of living, you never have to worry again about budgeting for underwear or stains you may or may not have left behind. I don’t even know how much money people spend, or how often people do buy underwear. I can’t fathom it. It’s one less thing I have had to worry about and if you’re a worrier like me, that is a blessing. Am I still debating whether or not I used the appropriate tone of voice in that text I sent to the girl I like? UH YEAH, I’m going to worry about that until she’s my wife. But I won’t be worrying about whether or not I can afford to purchase new underwear this month. Peace of mind, people. ?
Now there are drawbacks. I don’t know how this works for girls but if you’re a guy you need to shake “it” a little more when you’re done peeing – PARTICULARLY if you’re wearing slacks that are going to show a small dribble of moisture. It’s embarrassing for all of us when we have to walk around looking like we pissed ourselves but it’s especially bad when yeah, you did piss yourself a bit. ?
Also, I can’t be too sure but I swear I put crotch holes in my jeans FASTER without wearing underwear which is really a two-part problem. Part 1: Fuck, good jeans can be expensive and waking up one day with a quarter sized hole in your crotch is frustrating. Part 2: You can’t really wear anything that has a hole in your butt / crotch area without putting on a fleshy show for everyone. I was once accidentally this guy. Don’t be this guy. No one wants a surprise glimpse of your balls. Now maybe later in the conversation, she or he may decide that yes, your balls are worth seeing. But it’s not like showing a little more shoulder; no one is trying to see just a little more ball. No one. ?
Anyhow, this is the end of my declaration. Men, you should give it a try. For too long has Calvin Klein abused our self esteem with his beautiful male models clad only in those tight briefs; for too long have you felt it bunch up your crack and worried if you’re in safe company to pull it out; for too long have we had to even ask ourselves the question “Boxers or Briefs” and wonder what it means about who we are as men. I’m telling you. It’s not boxers. It’s not briefs. It’s bare, baby. Bare. ?
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