Thursday, September 29, 2011


I met boxers after I turned 24.
Am not talking about the dog breed. Dog...Will do that later on.
I am not referring to men who earn for landing a punch. Boxers...Will do that later on.

I AM referring to that cozy pair of clothing that I am now addicted to.

It was a livid HOT summer’s day in Delhi and my goofy classmate Joobi invited me to join the guys at the pool. Water – refreshing. Swimming - I swim like a rock. Swimwear – ooops.
Joobi offered a pair of shorts.
Yes, a T and shorts are passable as swimwear in India. So are salwars and kurtas and dupattas and 5 meters long saree!

Joobi vouched to watch over me. 
Yes, I try potentially dangerous things, thankfully am still alive

So there I was at the pool deck, wearing a T shirt and a pair of shorts. I stuck to the shallow end, joyfully splashing about. Joobi was given specific instructions that if I lose my footing , I would put up my hand, he will then need to drag me to the safety of the shallow end.

I can never stick to the plan. Less can Joobi.

Yippee cant touch one foot on the pool floor. Yippee cant touch both feet on the floor. YIP…. Oh O..gulp sputter ggurrglle splash

Soon I was gulping my share of chlorine and public pool piss. Frantically I put my hand up. Joobi…gulp  JOOOBBI? Gullllppppp sputter splashhh  NOW WHERE IS JOOBI?  GULPPP Splassshhhh OMG!
Joobi had forgotten his Baywatch duty.

SP grew up on a diet of Baywatch. So when he saw a drowning, distressed damsel he came rushing in from the other end of the pool. What SP did not know was, what to do once you reach the drowning distressed damsel.

Lets call it a case of me being in the wrong place at the wrong time with the wrong savior.  

SP grabbed my hair, forced my head underwater and dragged on the pool floor. GULLLLLLLLLLLP GULLLLLPPPP GULLLLPPPP (Yeahh! more than my share of chlorine and public pool piss)

In my attempt to live, I kicked punched struggled to end SP’s lethal rescue efforts. I think I bit his hand, and thus got him to lose his grip over my head and I torpedoed myself to safety. I got off the pool, lay on the deck thanking I was alive. SP came over, all I could tell him was….NEXT TIME …Please DON’T…

He dint get it, so I sat up and repeated. PLEASE DO NOT RESCUE EVER AGAIN.
Not the thanks he was expecting. And if you think that was bad... wait till you hear what happened to SP a few weeks later.

Oh and Joobi…was still nowhere to be seen!

I headed home right away and slept off the shock. It was weeks before I met Joobi or SP. The borrowed pair of shorts continued to live a borrowed life with me.

Some days passed before I decided to wear those shorts. Boyyy they ARE SO DAMN comfy.

Why the hell cant they make women’s clothing to be this comfortable? A womans shorts is busy trying to exaggerate the curve of her butt, widen her hip, narrow her waist and oo hide her tummy.

A guys shorts is just being.  Hugging where you like to be hugged, discreetly staying off areas where you are sensitive.  Room to breathe. Second skin. A guy’’s shorts will never painfully rub your butt crack. A guys shorts will never leave angry red marks near the waist band.  Anyways all this only means I wore those shorts over and over again.

Months passed…

"You wore them? You mean you still wear them????...whoa...dont you know those are boxers ", Joobi laughed incredulously.
"aaaa…. what is a boxer …" Yeah I met boxers rather late.  

It was then, that Joobi informed me that I was wearing a man's used underwear. YEEESSSHHHH. JOOOBBBBIIIIII I screamed as he laughed.

But should say they are so damn comfy!

The story doesn't end there, apparently the pair of shorts, I mean underwear belonged to SP. Yep the same Baywatch dude. It was a gift by his girlfriend. Now it so happened that his girl asked him where his boxers were.  It is uncanny how women know when something is missing. SP innocently told her that the boxers were with me.

Had it been a shirt, a tie or a pair of socks she would have been fine but somehow when it comes to your man’s underwear being with another woman, no amount of explaining would suffice. SP thus not only bid farewell to his underwear but also to his girlfriend.

Years have gone by and I somehow never felt like throwing away my first boxer shorts. Five days ago they were given to the last being who would use it.

Rossi Valentino had just been desexed and I needed to ensure that he would not lick his stitches. Instead of making him wear a ridiculous and uncomfortable Victorian Collar, I made him wear the boxers. Naturally he was very comfortable in it. Darn those boxers are so comfy.  He did not lick his privates.

Now that his stitches have healed, my first ever boxers have to leave for good. Darn that boxer has had a colorful life. It has hugged a dick, a jane and ball-less dog!

Farewell my first boxer. You have served well.

PS:  He asked me you covered dogs, men's underwear but what about the men who land a punch? I told him gift me a pair of boxers and I will tell you about that.  I Cant write that in this blog – even my mom  reads this. So if you want to know about the other boxers I left out, go on gift me a pair and I will tell you

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