To underwear or not to underwear?

That is the question: whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer the stickiness and discomfort of outrageous constrictions, or to take arms against a sea of fabric, and by opposing go commando?

OK, let's step back a little.

The modern world can be roughly split in two: people who wear undergarments all the time, including when asleep, and people who love letting it free, especially when 'hanging out' at home. Nothing wrong with either, as long as the first group remembers to disrobe to shower and the second one keeps away from windows and hot appliances. However, trouble hits when the dice-shaker of human encounters produces the unlikely coupling of a 'cover-up' and a 'happy flasher'.

American Friend was a recent victim of inappropriate sharing. She is quite happy to admit of being a bit of a geek-freak, i.e. she has a strong preference for nerds. A very commendable choice, may I add. As a neardy bird myself, I believe that nerds have plenty of rights to be liked by good-looking people. Unfortunately, nerds tend to adopt some disturbingly odd behaviours that can backfire at any time. You can therefore easily picture AF's surprise when she showed up at her new guy's flat in her best heels, carrying a succulent dinner and bags of hope for a romantic evening, and he opened the door wearing only a tee-shirt and Lord of the Rings underpants. And lucky she was, apparently, as he literally picked up his scant clothing on the way to the door. No, he wasn't implying a rapid evolution of their date that night. He just thought that it was perfectly appropriate to be his usual free self the first time she visited his den.
It didn't last. Certain boundaries are there for a reason. And require the development of a degree of intimacy before they are allowed to come down. (Like the whole leaving the bathroom door open thing; let's not even go there, shall we, it is too early in the morning) At the opposite end of the spectrum, I know of couples who have never taken their clothes off in front of each other and after years together fumble in the dark, trying to make sense of bits and bobs. That can't be healthy either.

To be honest, nudity can be the subject of numerous posts, so I won't exhaust all my ammunitions in one shot. More to come in the future.

I shall therefore leave you with a tiny tale. A few years back I was watching an art-house film with a bunch of girlfriends. In the lead up to the sex scene de rigueur, the male protagonist dropped his jeans to reveal a perfectly formed naked butt, devoid of underwear. The room burst into two simultaneous and opposing noises: 'Mmmmm', a clear sign of appreciation for the male form, and 'Yyyeeewww', a clear sign of concern for personal hygiene. It is amazing how (the lack of) such a small amount of fabric can either spark the imagination or put you off for good.

And BTW, if somebody knows the answer, pray tell, why is it called 'commando'?