Revealing your true self

and other subjects of diminishing quality

Forget Liza and Harry’s bucket, I’ve got something more pressing to share.

Photo by Iswanto Arif on Unsplash

There I was, on a hot August day, lying on my bed, reading a book quite contently, when my unexpecting roommate walked in. I had my back to him and was facing the wrong way, but I could sense something was wrong.

I can’t quite remember the words, but the sentence that escaped his mouth was of joke, shock and horror. He proceeded to point out, that other than being greeted by my perfectly pert bottom in the tighter fitting boxers I wear, he had unfortunately developed a certain amount of x-ray vision thanks to a hole.

A small hole in any case, that had appeared in the gooch area of my underwear, where front meets back and a certain void exists. Void of what exactly, I’ll leave that up to you to imagine.

Luckily, it’s all pretty dark down there, and there was no cock or ball popping out, yet the damage was done. He had also been quick enough to snap a photo and share it with our fellow colleagues at the camp. He also hit the drink pretty soon after.

I hadn’t noticed that hole that morning whilst putting on said underwear, and if you know me, I quite often look like I get dressed in the dark. The only time anything matches is when…