Who Knew There Was No Fly in Man Panties? I Mean Underwear.

Who Knew There Was No Fly in Man Panties? I Mean Underwear.

What a shock! There are mens’ shorts with no fly.

I often shop for my husband’s clothing, including underwear. There is a dizzying array of choices. There are prints, colors, boxers, briefs, bikinis and more. I automatically knew that my husband was not going to wear bikinis or the butt floss type so the most reasonable choice was cotton ones or silky sweat controlling ones for the summer. Boy was I wrong!

Let me start out by saying my husband did not complain about what I brought home. Those purchases went into the dresser with matching undershirts in some instances and plain white cotton tees and those other types that I will not call by the nick name suggesting domestic violence. I was left clueless until recently that most of the ones I bought were defective.

My husband hates to shop for clothing which explains why I am the one usually doing the deed. A few weeks ago we had to go to the Loop for meetings. He was starving because we missed breakfast and there was not enough time to go home before the next round of meetings. The logical choice? Grab lunch. We did that but still had about two hours to kill since the meeting time was moved back an hour. So what does a self respecting wife do when the husband’s underwear drawer is looking like the dust rags bin? Go shopping…of course.

Off we went to Macy’s. He wanted to look at shirts so that was the first stop but I refused to leave Macy’s until he got underwear. He went begrudgingly. I was a little perplexed as to why he was so hesitant. I was thinking he can’t be embarrassed. I’m his wife…geeze.

While he browsed through packages, I wondered why it was taking so long for him to choose something. It’s underwear. You’re married and turning 70 this year. What could you possibly need that you are not finding? I had to ask. “Honey, is there something I can help with?” I was thinking he didn’t have his reading glasses on so maybe I needed to read the labels. He turned to me with a smile. “No”, he responded, “I’m good.” But the search continued through rack after rack. He was obviously avoiding the bikini racks. He passed one section so quickly that I started laughing aloud. The prints couldn’t have been less to his liking. Maybe less likely if they had been splashed with pink flamingos. He’s a bird lover but flamingos on his underwear would have been too too.

I ventured again to ask if I should join the search. I only wanted to know what I should find. Sort of playing I spy a pair of underwear with ….. what. I got the answer after the third inquiry.

“Honey”, he said with a big smile. “I just need to find under pants with a fly.” I was stunned. I said, “You mean the ones I have been buying don’t have a fly?” “Sometimes”, he said. “But why?”, I asked. “I have no idea”, he said. We both started laughing when I responded. “Bonding with females who have to sit, maybe?”

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