A Quarter Life Crisis

While finishing up my laundry (this is the bane of my existence, I hope one day to be a ba-zillionaire so I can hire someone to do this for me) I ran across an over sized t-shirt that belonged to one of my exes. It's funny how when you return someones crap in a plastic bag in the middle of his work shift how one tiny over sized maroon Old Navy t-shirt with 81 printed on the front magically doesn't end up in the bag. In my defense he wasn't even born in 81. Shortly there after he called asking about the missing shirt. No I'm not one of those girls who leaves items or forgets items so I can stay in contact with the ex, in all actuality I just failed to check the clothes hamper. Glad I missed it in the laundry because the shirt has a funny story tied to it and I remember it every time I slip it on.

The story goes a little something like this...he (we'll just call him Mr. Bengali) locked himself out of his apartment (this was about a month or so into our relationship) and needed a place to crash. In true I like this boy, kind of think he's lying but company sounds nice fashion I let him dock his ship. Of course that also meant having to pick him up because he didn't have a car. So at 1AM in the morning I fumbled around my room getting dressed to drive downtown.

By the time I got downtown he was in a pissier mood than when he called to tell me he locked himself out of his house. Always the glass is half full kind of girl I told him that things could be worse. He could have to sleep at the train station or call his mother for the spare key and listen to a lecture about responsibility. Instead he was reaping the benefits of dating someone like me who partially felt bad and decided to let him buy me breakfast the next morning. I would think he would be grateful. In part I guess he was but all I heard for the entire half hour drive back to my house was that he didn't have a change of clothes and he couldn't possibly wear this maroon Old Navy t-shirt again to work, not to mention that he didn't have a change of underwear. I told him him he was more than welcome to rummage through my brother's stuff (I share an apt with my younger bro) but I didn't think anything would fit him considering the significant size difference.

He was none to happy and so he forced me to stop at the 24hr Rite Aid not to far from my place. Mr. Bengali was a boxer briefs kind of guy and unfortunately Rite Aid ain't your every day dept store so he settled for regular bleach white tightie whities. I broke out in fits of uncontrollable laughter when he walked out of my bathroom wearing the undies. The only thing missing on them was Scooby Do to complete his 12yr old boy look. In true man fashion his ego was bruised and he refused to go to sleep until I found something he could use to cover up. His embarrassment was a complete turn off and now that I think about it this should have been the sign that we weren't going to work out.

Anyway I managed to scrounge up a 6x t-shirt for him. And now that I think about it, that shirt probably belonged to this iron worker I used to date before Mr. Bengali but I digress. As if the tightie whitie escapade wasn't funny enough imagine this scene: long nightgownish white t-shirt swallowing up grown man whose wearing tightie whities and gym socks. It was the funniest thing since Dave Chappelle lost his mind and stopped doing sketch. When I say fits of laughter....I mean crying fits of laughter so much so I could hardly talk.

Now every time I see this maroon t-shirt it brings that picture to mind and I can't help but laugh. Bottom line I can't part with the shirt, he not getting it back and should stop calling about it.