Yesterday was a LONG day… which started with a five-hour trip to somewhere south of Baltimore at 7am, continued with training the entire staff of a surgical center, followed by a nap in a Wawa parking lot on the side of 95 N on my way back home, and ended with parking illegally outside my apartment at 9pm and collapsing on my couch.
Wait, scratch that… I forgot to collapse on my couch. The Architect was out with friends, it’s Fourth of July week, and as I was getting home, he asked if I wanted to meet up with them. In my current state of YOLO, and being that I’m moving across the country in less than four weeks (less.than.four.weeks), I took a quick shower and met them out at a local watering hole. The Architect is the one who found my blog several weeks back and was initially not happy about it. Then he dumped me (even though we weren’t dating). He has since gotten over being mad about being in the blog, and began following the original one (which is basically gone, so here we are starting from scratch). Since I’m moving, it’s taken the question of dating out of the equation, so we’ve continued to be friends.
So I’m sitting at the bar with the Architect, and his friend with always perfectly combed hair and more often than not wearing a three-piece suit, whom we will call Slick. Architect asks if tonight is going to be included a blog post.
“No, it’s too boring… there’s nothing to blog about.”
Then comes the discussion on nude underwear. Ever since I met the Architect I’ve known he’s been very passionate about hating nude underwear of any sort… He made this apparent at a birthday party at the beer garden last summer when someone’s nude thong was sticking out of their pants. He thinks nude underwear is for grandmothers and has no place being on anyone else. There has really been no arguing with him when it comes to the topic of what to wear under light articles of clothing, because his only response is: “Just wear white!”
Apparently all men feel this way. I’m not sure how the topic came up last night… probably when part of my nude bra was showing through an opening in the back of my WHITE shirt. White shirts require NUDE bras.
“Yeah, I’m wearing a nude bra. Get over it.”
“Why don’t you girls get it? We all KNOW you’re wearing a bra under your shirt. It’s no secret. Just wear white, or red, or black or cheetah print, we don’t care… just not NUDE.”
Now Slick joins into the conversation: “Nude bras are the WORST. Just don’t wear clothes that require nude bras!”
Architect says, “Dude, girls aren’t going to stop wearing white. They just need to wear a different color bra underneath.”
Now they’re debating back and forth with each other, arguing over whether the bra should be a different color no matter what kind of shirt, or if shirts that show colored bras should be eliminated altogether, and I’m basically out of the conversation besides to add… “It’s trashy to have a cheetah print bra sticking out of a white shirt.”
“Who says?”
“Everyone says.”
“No, just you girls say.”
Architect’s argument is that any other color besides nude should be worn under clothing. Slick’s argument is that girls should stop wearing light colors altogether. He stated that if men make a big enough of a stink about it, white shirts will basically become extinct in a few years. Is this a real conversation?
I’m really not sure what the big deal about it is. And I’m also kind of confused about the fact that these men feel so strongly against a certain color underwear. Is this a global thing? Or just local? And no, we’re not going to stop wearing white shirts.
breathe in, laugh out 