I deserve a man with good underwear
BF and I have been together for over a year. We’ve been living together unofficially and then officially for most of that time. We’ve met each other’s families. We own a dog together. We’ve taken vacations together. In spite of all these major rites of passage we’ve made together, including still being able to have sex with each other after a fight about skid marks, there is one major rite that I have not been able to undergo.
His underwear. It has to go. Too many holes and popped elastic bands and permanently “miscolored” pair (a-hem, hence the fight on skid marks).
I’m not talking about a couple pair, I’m talking about half the contents of his underwear drawer. Some of these are from when he was in high school, which was yeeeeears ago. I mean, the guy was ruthless in our selection of curtains for our new apartment (please note that I am the one who watches HGTV, he’s just a metrosexual and apparently he thinks that makes him god of color choice), and yet he doesn’t mind ratty-tatty-fresh-and-fruity underwear from the time of 90210.
Like, ew.
