One time, my friend Jeremy didn’t bother to move his laundry off his bed when I came to his dorm to watch American Idol. As a reward for my unflapping acceptance of mess (since I am, of course, the cleanest person on the planet…yep…), I got to help him fold it.
Side note: Why is it no longer weird to think about folding a man’s underwear? I must be ready for a real relationship…
One of the t-shirts I had the pleasure of making more compact was a promotional item for a little movie known as I Am Legend, starring the dashing Will Smith and which I have never actually seen. One of our friends got paid to hand out the promotional materials to friends and take pictures of them wearing them, so every guy on the floor got a black, long-sleeved tee with “I AM LEGEND” printed on the front.
This particular shirt got a little more reaction than the underwear.
“Why did only guys get these shirts? I want one! I would have taken one of these shirts if Ian had given them out to girls. It’s so sexist that the production company only wanted pictures of guys wearing the shirts, so much so that they only made men’s t-shirts to begin with. Men’s Large? This shirt would make an awesome night shirt. It’s baggy and soft, and I bet the fabric will get even better when it’s been worn for a long time. Plus, it would make such a cool story for me to tell people where I got it. Which they wouldn’t, because I’d be sleeping in it, meaning only one person at a time would see me wear it. And that person would be my roommate. Who I don’t really want looking at me like that. Ok, never mind…”
“Uhh…Jill?” he managed to squeeze into my increasingly revealing monologue. “That shirt shrunk a little in the wash and now it fits funny. You can have it, if you want.”
About six months later, my friend Cameron had put all of his laundry away (brownie points) but had decided to clean out his closet to make way for some new clothes. (He might actually be the cleanest person on the planet. Just saying.) A few free give away t-shirts were thrown into a heap, having refused to stretch to fit the needs of a college student with 18 hour gym access, and then came shorts.
Four pairs of (as far as I could tell) identical cargo shorts came flying out of the closet, along with some blue basketball shorts.
“Do you know anyone about my size? I don’t want these anymore, but I don’t want to throw them out.”
“Can’t help you on the cargo shorts. But I’ll take the basketball ones.”
“Aren’t they going to be big? Like, really big?”
So that’s how I got them. This Men’s Large t-shirt that has faded to a lovely charcoal gray and may or may not have a hole in the right armpit, and these Men’s Large navy blue basketball shorts with the white piping stripe down the sides. I really should double knot the drawstring to keep them up. If you saw me from far away, you’d think I was wearing a skirt because that’s how baggy these shorts are.
And now, on the days when I have a fever of 101, shake and sweat and have that tingling sensation in my scalp, have a reason to use the words “mucus” or “phelgm,” probably shouldn’t move far from a toilet or a box of tissues or a bottle of pepto, and look like my skin is made of banana peels, all you attractive men can stop texting me and asking,
“What are you wearing?”