Bottom Line

9 10 2010

At the risk of repeating something that most women already know (or at least believe) to be true, we men can sometimes be a rather pathetic lot. We’re just 12-year-olds in big bodies, with balding heads and sagging paunches. Helpless in the kitchen. Clueless in the laundry room. Capable only of producing a never-ending wardrobe faux pas.

Yeah, it’s good to be a man (heaving big masculine sigh of confidence).

Early in our lives we are implicitly taught that there is an Underwear Fairy. Young lads, and later on, men, need do nothing when it comes to skivvies. Clean undies magically appear in the dresser drawer with amazing regularity. And periodically, a new 3-pack shows up, nestled amid the old reliables like an Easter egg in the grass.

How this Underwear Fairy comes and goes is anyone’s guess. There’s magic in this restoration and replenishment, no doubt. All we have to do is remember to actually use them.

And no man can ever forget the childhood admonitions to always wear clean underwear, because if you should be so unlucky as to be carted off to the Emergency Room for a cut, bruise or worse, you could be denied service. Dirty Underwear is the first item they check for, not insurance cards. A stain in any unspoken spot would result in your automatic ejection. Never mind if you are bleeding. They cannot allow dirty drawers near all that sensitive equipment.

Now lest you think we men appreciate all this goodness and concern over our most intimate of apparel, think again. We will continue to wear our boxers and briefs as long as they show up in the underwear drawer. Holes. Threadbare. Sprung elastic. Who cares? No one sees ’em anyway (as long as we stay out of hospitals).

Of course, as I matured and came to accept the charade of Santa, the Tooth Fairy and the Easter Bunny, I realized that the Underwear Fairy is none other than Mom/Wife/Girlfriend. While all men have come to grips with this act of benefaction, we continue to milk it for all it’s worth. I just wonder what would happen to mankind (literally) if the underwear subsidy stopped and we had to go it alone.

Which is probably why Manpacks was started in the first place. Subscription underwear and socks. Every three months a new package appears. Just like old times.

Now my female readers are probably cackling with delight over this lifelong addiction to helplessness, but this is actually a well-thought business. And no, the three month intervening period does not mean we are freed from the drudgery of laundry (wear ’em awhile and then pitch ’em). If anything, it actually adds a little forethought to the process. Men are not known for thinking ahead in this department.

Truth be known, though, I bet that the majority of Manpacks’ customers are still women. The same Moms/Wives/Girlfriends who brought home fresh packages in the past are still the ones orchestrating it today. Sure, some modern men will find the service to their liking, but men will be men. Boys will be boys.

And we need someone to help make sure we aren’t embarrassed at the Emergency Room.

Dr “Briefly” Gerlich




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