I’ve had a similar moment to this once before in my life.
I was 13, and I had been invited to the beach with some of the “cool girls” at school. My dad (my British dad, I should say) was supposed to come pick me up. He just can’t resist a “dip in the sea” when the opportunity arises. So right there, on the Texas beach, in front of my friends and a couple of mothers… he stripped down to his whitey tighties and waded out into the water.
I was foolish enough to have my back turned to him for these two seconds and I had to be notified by one of the cool girls.
That was the end of that. I remained content for the next several years in the nerd group.
Fast-forward 15 years, and I find myself face to face with a drawer full of men’s Speedos. MY man’s Speedos.
I didn’t intentionally seek out a Speedo wearing European, but perhaps some of that subconscious quest for paternal familiarity drove me towards a man who would embarrass me just as much as Dad.
I think the most shocking thing to me at the time of this discovery was the sheer number of tight little spandex shorts in his possession. This is a man who doesn’t like the beach, never wears shorts, and sports a farmer’s tan most of the year.
Since this was at the beginning of our relationship when this happened, I handled it with much more care than I would now. Now I would crack up laughing and make fun of him.
(He is looking over my shoulder right now telling me that I did, in fact, do that.)
Well, anyway, I did what any American girlfriend would do to handle the situation. I bought him some board shorts.
As it turns out, he was quite happy to have an alternative that covered more skin. Oddly enough, it was me that started missing the little spandex shorts! I kept finding myself trying to convince him to don them “just one more time, for me, pleeeease!” But now that he had this modest alternative, there was no going back.
Similarly, when we first met, I made it my mission to rid his closet of the (what I called) “European pants”. You know the ones I’m talking about – straight out of the 80’s, tapered at the ankle, tight butt, perhaps a pleat or fold where one shouldn’t be. Top it with a fanny pack, and you have every American girl’s nightmare. So I got rid of all of them and replaced his wardrobe with Gap-like, baggy, American jeans… which he now loves.
Looking back on it, I kind of wish I hadn’t said anything. I kinda miss the snugness… makes for a nice view!
*Editor’s note: if you look like any of THESE men… please, continue wearing Speedos.