Flinchbot Says: OK, the age old debate among men: Boxers vs. Briefs (with the new-age “Boxer Brief” thrown in for good measure).
The Boxer is the classic loose-fitting undergarment. It looks classys with or without pants. The Boxer is usually adorned with some kind of festive pattern allowing you to show personality via your underwear. The boxer allows for maximum breathing space for Big John and The Boys but doesn’t provide any support for the fine fella’s. They also tend to bunch when you pull your pants up, making them more difficult to get situated properly. Men seem to think wearing silk boxers improve their chances of impressing women.
The brief is the most classic of mens underwear. It’s got a de facto color of white though you can get brief’s in most any color. These provide maximum support for The Mayor and his Council.
The Boxer Brief is the genetic mutation of the Boxer and the Brief. It attempts to provide the benefits of both styles of undergarment: Support for The Lord High Majesty and his Inner Circle while still allowing for the air to get in there and minimize crotch rot.
So I ask you FlavaDave: Boxers or Briefs? (Or Boxer Briefs)?
FlavaDave Says: First of all, this is a two horse race. If you are over the age of 13 and you are still wearing briefs, you are a nancy boy. Plain and simple.
So this boils down to two options: boxers or boxer briefs. I feel like this is a good time to share the American Flag Boxers story.
The scene is last summer after MMS day one. I was (obviously) pretty drunk and ready to call it a night. But on my way out of the Vogue, I ran into Mike Shimmercore. He coerced me to go to the Alley Cat without too much effort.
I have a few drinks there, and then I’m ready to call it a night. But on my way out, I run into Scott H8, and he needs a place to crash. I agree to let him use my couch. But wait! First we need to go to the Upper Room to get a night cap.
Now I’ve gone way beyond drunk into insanity. I’m a big guy who can (generally) hold the liquor in, so I wasn’t sick. But I might have been a little crazy.
We all pass out at my house. At 4:30 in the morining, the Peytons come home. They are leaving for a month and a half, so I want to talk to them one last time. So, naturally, I walk out into the livingroom wearing nothing but American Flag Boxers. Everybody wakes back up, we get to talking, and eventually we settle into a scene that I will never forget:
The Rev and Scott in my backyard (which is smack in the middle of Broad Ripple) talking with me while I was wearing nothing but American Flag Boxers, an unbuttoned collared shirt with my bare chest underneath it, and an old pair of slippers. I was half naked, drinking a PBR, and arguing about the state of the music industry while people walked by and stared in confused bewilderment. Totally awesome.
As for your question, boxer briefs are the way to go. The comfort and security of briefs coupled with the freedom of boxers. Kinda like socialism, except it totally works.
Unless you are in a drunken arguement at five in the morining in your backyard.
Sub question: Is going commando by choice acceptable?
Flinchbot says: So here is my shocking underwear story:
Who teaches you to wear underwear? Your dad. So if dad wears briefs, the boy is going to wear briefs. If the dad wears boxers, the boy is going to wear boxers.
My dad was a brief man. So I was a brief man. I wore briefs from about the age of whenever until about 27. Classic white Hanes.
I dabbled with boxers, but I didn’t like how they bunched in your pants when you tried to put on your slacks. Plus, they didn’t feel like they were really supporting my John Thomas properly.
So I gave boxer-briefs a try and really liked them and now I’m almost exclusively a boxer-brief wearer.
When I first started wearing boxer-briefs, I felt like a rebel. I was going against the way I was raised. I was trying something new and different. I was a bad ass!
So my dad gets tickets to a Notre Dame football game in South Bend. What an awesome score by pops. He got us a hotel room in Elkhart, about 20 minutes away from Notre Dame.
As it was time to go to sleep, I pulled off my pants and went into my bed wearing just a t-shirt and my boxer briefs. That’s my de facto night time outfit. Meanwhile, dad is still a classic pajama wearer. But somewhere between him de-robing and putting on his pajamas, I caught a glimpse of him in his underwear.
Much to my shock, horror, and amazement, he was wearing these:
Say what? Dad had moved on past the brief and to the bikini underwear? Are you kidding me? My right-wing Christian conservative father who doesn’t drink, smoke, or swear?
Here is an excerpt from the last e-mail my dad sent me. Do these sound like the words of a bikini wearer?
Do you think the French have the guts to get out of socialism? If they do, that would leave the American Democrat Party along with Castro and North Korea as the last of the Socialists.
Needless to say, I felt a bit betrayed. While I thought I was the one making the rebel move from briefs to Boxer-briefs, Dad went the other way to the bikini brief. I’m still not over it.
So as the story above points out, I’m a boxer-brief wearer. And though I was slow to convert, I ain’t gonig back to the brief. Yet somehow, I can’t bring myself to getting a pair of bikini briefs. I always saw those as the bastion of dudes named Blaise who spend all day in the gym so thay can have a body that women drool over but only Danny gets to fully explore each night.
As for going commando, I’m all for it. It’s got that sense of danger, like you’re getting away with something. Just make sure that your body is in good shape and that you don’t intend on eating bad beans that cause anal leakage. Because when you break it all down, the only point of underwear is to keep front dribble and anal leakage off of your pants.