ON THE day of non-essential retail reopening across Ireland, allowing people to finally purchase clothing items following a near 6-month lockdown, one local man took the time to reflect on his now tattered collection of boxers, penning them an emotional letter and thanking them for supporting him all the way.
Many of you were received as Christmas presents. Some of you even made it all the way here from the Christmas before and hung in there until the bitter end. You were there with me through thick and thin; the expanding waistline, the extra few days of wear when I became too lazy to change you, causing you to bind with my skin. I even turned some of you inside out for the lack of new versions of you. Desperate times called for desperate measures and most of you made it through.
I know many of you are now faded and worn with large gaping holes where my ball sack rested. And yes, no garment should be put through the kind of trauma you faced, including the hours on end wedged between my cracks and crevices while I binge watched TV. I don’t think anyone understands the role you played, and I just want to express my gratitude before I throw some of you out, or recycle you as buffing cloths for removing wax from my car.
It’s tough saying goodbye after becoming so attached. Some of you I preferred over others, but I still respect you all despite many of you cheaper, loose fitting ones letting my lad stick to the inside of my leg at times, or simply catching it in a way that made it aroused while out walking, forcing me to stop and fix myself awkwardly on the street. I forgive you and will never forget the wonderful times we have had together over the past 18 months.
If I can find a pack of 5 that are even half the jocks you are, I’d be happy. Sure, they won’t get to know me as well, or see all the God-awful things you’ve witnessed during the last 6 months of lockdown, but there will always be a place in my heart for you, my lockdown jocks 20/21.
Thank you all again for getting through the leakage, the crotch rot and mange. You are man’s best friend and I salute you all. Sleep tight, sweet pants.
Your friend forever,
P.S. I will of course keep my favourite, trusty off-white coloured Calvin Ks in a frame above my bed as a memento. You have served me well, squires.”
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