National Underwear Day

Today is National Underwear Day, and after writing last week’s post, First Crushes in Plain Sight, I realized there was another chapter to that story.

For many gay men of my generation, underwear wasn’t just something we wore. It was one of the first ways we noticed the male body, even if we didn’t yet understand why we were looking. Department store catalogs, magazine advertisements, and those cardboard underwear packages all offered perfectly acceptable reasons to admire handsome men. Eventually, though, we grew up, started buying our own underwear, and discovered that what we wore could say something about who we were—or at least who we wanted to be.

When I was a kid in the 1980s, briefs ruled. Hanes, Fruit of the Loom, and Jockey were what almost every boy wore. If you were in elementary school, you probably also had a pair of Underoos featuring your favorite superhero. There was something magical about putting on Superman or Batman before heading off to school.

That changed surprisingly quickly.

By the time I reached high school in the early 1990s, briefs had practically disappeared from the boys’ locker room. Everyone seemed to wear either boxer shorts or the then-new boxer briefs. Wearing briefs wasn’t just considered old-fashioned—it was often dismissed as “gay.” Looking back, it’s ironic considering how popular briefs have become again, especially within the gay community.

As gay culture developed its own fashion trends, underwear became something entirely different. It wasn’t simply about comfort anymore. It became another way to express personality, confidence, and sometimes a sense of humor.

One company that deserves special recognition is Ginch Gonch. Long before novelty underwear became commonplace, Ginch Gonch embraced bright colors, cartoon-inspired graphics, and playful designs that felt like Underoos for grown men. They proved men’s underwear didn’t have to be plain, and they helped pave the way for many of the brands that followed.

No discussion would be complete without Andrew Christian. For nearly three decades, Andrew Christian defined gay underwear marketing. The company’s colorful designs, playful advertising, and signature pouch technology influenced countless competitors. Although Andrew Christian recently retired and closed the brand, its impact on gay fashion is hard to overstate. In many ways, it marks the end of one of the most influential chapters in gay men’s underwear.

Another thing that changed the industry was the use of gay adult film stars as underwear models. I can’t remember whether Andrew Christian or Ginch Gonch embraced the idea first—Topher DiMaggio became one of Andrew Christian’s most recognizable faces, while Benjamin Bradley was synonymous with Ginch Gonch for many years—but once the trend caught on, it spread quickly. Today, it’s common for underwear companies to feature well-known gay models, adult film stars, and social media personalities in their advertising. Coyote Jocks, for example, has featured Oliver Marks in campaigns. It makes sense from a marketing standpoint. These are men who already have devoted followings, and they bring a level of confidence and authenticity that resonates with many gay consumers.

Other companies soon found devoted followings. Brands like 2(X)IST and C-IN2 helped bridge the gap between department store underwear and underwear designed specifically with gay men in mind. Today, companies such as Charlie by Matthew Zink, CellBlock 13, Nasty Pig, PUMP!, Cocksox, 2EROS, Rufskin, Coyote Jocks, Bang, Hung, and Papi each serve their own corner of the market, whether that’s athletic, luxury, fetish, nightlife, or simply fashion-forward basics.

Designer labels have also played an enormous role. Calvin Klein, in particular, transformed men’s underwear advertising into something aspirational. Those iconic campaigns made underwear sexy in a way it had never been before. Emporio Armani, Hugo Boss, and Diesel continued that tradition, making underwear something worth showing off instead of hiding beneath your clothes.

Ironically, the brands many of us grew up wearing have found a second life in certain gay communities. Hanes, Fruit of the Loom, and especially classic Jockey briefs have become favorites within some nostalgia and underwear fetish circles. What was once considered ordinary—or even embarrassingly plain—has become appealing precisely because of its simplicity and familiarity. Sometimes yesterday’s basics become today’s fetish.

Then there are the styles themselves. Today, briefs have enjoyed a remarkable comeback, especially within the gay community. Boxer briefs remain an everyday favorite for many men, while trunks offer a shorter, more modern silhouette. Boxer shorts still have their loyal fans, even if they’re not nearly as common as they once were. Bikini briefs, jockstraps, and thongs each have their own devoted audiences, and today there’s far less concern about whether one style is somehow “more masculine” than another.

Of course, if you’ve spent any time on gay social media, you’ve probably encountered one of the countless “gay underwear spectrum” memes that supposedly explain your preferred position based entirely on what’s in your underwear drawer. I’ve included one of my favorites below.

They’re completely ridiculous.

That’s also what makes them so funny.

I know tops who wear briefs, bottoms who swear by boxer briefs, versatile guys who collect jockstraps, and plenty of men whose favorite underwear is simply whatever happened to be on sale at Costco. Like most stereotypes, the memes are funny because they exaggerate tiny grains of truth into something absurd.

Looking back, it’s amazing how much underwear has changed during my lifetime. What was once a purely practical purchase has become fashion, self-expression, nostalgia, and, for many gay men, a celebration of the male body. It has also become another way for gay men to recognize ourselves in advertising. Where department store catalogs once gave us anonymous models to admire, today’s underwear campaigns often feature men many of us already know—from fitness influencers to adult film stars to social media personalities. That’s a remarkable evolution in just a few decades.

So, in honor of National Underwear Day, pull on your favorite pair of underwear and celebrate the day—whether it’s a classic pair of white briefs, comfortable boxer briefs, colorful trunks, a favorite jockstrap, or anything in between. After all, confidence is always in style.

I can’t resist asking: What’s your favorite style—and has it changed over the years? Do you have a favorite brand? I’d love to hear your answers in the comments.


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The More Loving One

The More Loving One

By W. H. Auden

Looking up at the stars, I know quite well
That, for all they care, I can go to hell,
But on earth indifference is the least
We have to dread from man or beast.

How should we like it were stars to burn
With a passion for us we could not return?
If equal affection cannot be,
Let the more loving one be me.

Admirer as I think I am
Of stars that do not give a damn,
I cannot, now I see them, say
I missed one terribly all day.

Were all stars to disappear or die,
I should learn to look at an empty sky
And feel its total dark sublime,
Though this might take me a little time.

About the Poem 

Most of us have, at one time or another, loved someone more than they loved us. It may have been a crush that was never returned, a relationship that slowly faded, or simply an admiration that remained one-sided. Those experiences can leave us feeling embarrassed or even foolish, as though loving deeply were somehow a weakness.

W. H. Auden offers a different perspective.

He imagines the stars as beautiful, distant, and completely indifferent to us. They neither know nor care that we spend our nights gazing at them. Yet we continue to marvel at their beauty. We do not expect the stars to love us in return. So why should we believe that every human affection must always be perfectly balanced?

The heart of the poem is one of the most beautiful lines Auden ever wrote:

“If equal affection cannot be, / Let the more loving one be me.”

At first glance, it sounds almost heartbreaking. But I don’t think Auden is encouraging us to become doormats or to remain trapped in unhealthy relationships. Instead, he is recognizing that love is never a competition to see who gives exactly fifty percent. Love is a gift freely offered. If we only choose to love when we are guaranteed an equal return, then our love is really a transaction.

As a gay man, I also hear something else in these words. For many LGBTQ+ people, especially those of earlier generations, first loves often existed only in silence. We admired classmates, coworkers, neighbors, or friends who never knew how we felt—or who could never return those feelings. Loving from a distance was, for many of us, a painful but familiar experience.

Yet those loves were not meaningless simply because they were unreturned. They helped shape us. They taught us compassion, patience, and empathy. They prepared us for the day when we would finally find someone capable of loving us back.

The final stanza reminds us that even if the stars disappeared, life would go on. We would grieve their loss, but eventually we would learn to appreciate even an empty sky. Healing does not erase love. It teaches us that our capacity to love survives disappointment.

The greatest risk in life is not loving too much. It is allowing disappointment to convince us never to love again.

“The More Loving One” was first published in W. H. Auden’s 1957 collection Homage to Clio. Like much of Auden’s later poetry, it combines philosophical reflection with conversational language. Rather than writing a traditional romantic poem, Auden uses the stars as an extended metaphor for beauty, admiration, and emotional imbalance.

The poem asks whether love must always be reciprocal to have value. Auden ultimately suggests that it does not. Loving another person—even when that love is not fully returned—is not a failure but an expression of generosity and humanity.

The final stanza shifts from longing to acceptance. The speaker acknowledges that loss would be painful but also believes that the human heart possesses an extraordinary capacity to heal and continue finding beauty in the world.

About the Poet

W. H. Auden (1907–1973) was one of the most influential English-language poets of the twentieth century. Born in England, he later became an American citizen and wrote extensively on love, faith, politics, psychology, and the human condition. His poetry ranges from highly intellectual meditations to deeply personal reflections, often blending formal structure with everyday speech.

Auden was also one of the most prominent openly gay literary figures of his era. Although society often forced LGBTQ+ people into secrecy during much of his lifetime, his experiences informed many of his reflections on love, longing, intimacy, and belonging. His longtime relationship with poet Chester Kallman was complex but enduring, and themes of imperfect love frequently appear throughout his later work.

More than fifty years after his death, Auden’s poetry continues to speak to readers because it embraces life’s ambiguities. Rather than offering easy answers, he reminds us that love is worthwhile not because it is always returned, but because it reveals the very best of what it means to be human.


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Monday Morning Daydreams

Monday mornings always seem to arrive a little too quickly. I wish I could wake up on a Monday actually looking forward to the week ahead. Instead, here I am with my usual routine—watching the news, drinking a cup of coffee, and mentally preparing myself for another work week.

One of my coworkers is on vacation this week, and another won’t be back in the office until Wednesday. That means I’ll have the museum to myself today. I usually enjoy the quiet, but first I have to find the motivation to get ready and head out the door. Eventually, the coffee will do its job, and a hot shower will wake me up the rest of the way.

If I could choose where to wake up this morning, though, it definitely wouldn’t be here. I’d much rather be in Montreal. I’d love to spend a week north of the border, with enough time to take a day trip—or maybe even spend a night—in Quebec City. I’ve visited Montreal in the spring and in the fall, but I don’t think I’ve ever been there during the summer. I imagine the cafés bustling, the parks full of people, and long evenings strolling through Old Montreal or the Village, people-watching and admiring all the handsome men passing by before settling in for a leisurely dinner on a patio.

Maybe someday. Until then, it’s a pleasant little daydream to help get me through the Monday blahs. I hope everyone has a wonderful week!


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Faith Is the Victory

“Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.”

— Hebrews 11:1

There have been seasons in my life when finding a church home has been difficult.

Part of that comes from my background. I was raised in the Churches of Christ, and there is still something deeply moving to me about hearing a congregation lift their voices together without instruments. There is something beautiful about hearing nothing but human voices singing praise to God. Paul’s words have always resonated with me: “singing psalms and hymns and spiritual songs among yourselves, singing and making melody to the Lord in your hearts” (Ephesians 5:19).

At the same time, being an LGBTQ+ Christian can make finding a church complicated. Some of us have been told outright that we don’t belong. Others have quietly walked away after years of hearing that our very existence is incompatible with following Christ. Thankfully, many affirming churches now welcome LGBTQ+ believers with open arms, but not everyone has one nearby.

For me, there is another obstacle as well: anxiety.

I’ve never liked walking into church alone. Even when I know I would likely be welcomed, anxiety whispers that I don’t belong or that everyone is watching me. It’s much the same reason I sometimes struggle to go to the gym without a trainer. Once I’m there, I’m usually fine. It’s getting through the door that’s difficult.

For a long time, I wondered whether these struggles somehow made me less faithful.

Then I realized something important.

My relationship with God has never depended on whether I could walk through the doors of a church building.

Faith is what joins us to God.

The writer of Hebrews tells us that faith is “the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.” Faith is not confined to a sanctuary. It is not dependent on someone else’s approval. It is the confidence that God is present even when circumstances make us feel isolated.

Jesus said, “Whoever comes to me I will never drive away” (John 6:37). The invitation is His, not ours to earn and not anyone else’s to revoke.

That doesn’t mean church isn’t important. Scripture encourages believers “not neglecting to meet together” but to encourage one another (Hebrews 10:24–25). Christian community strengthens us, teaches us, and reminds us that we do not walk this journey alone.

Yet there are seasons when gathering with other believers simply isn’t possible. Sometimes there isn’t an affirming congregation nearby. Sometimes illness, caregiving responsibilities, anxiety, or painful experiences make walking through those doors feel impossible.

Even then, God has not moved away.

Paul reminds us, “For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come… nor anything else in all creation will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord” (Romans 8:38–39).

Not rejection.

Not anxiety.

Not distance.

Not the opinions of others.

Nothing.

Those words always remind me of the old hymn Faith Is the Victory:

Against the foe in vales below
Let all our strength be hurled;
Faith is the victory, we know,
That overcomes the world.

The victory isn’t that every obstacle disappears. The victory is that none of those obstacles can separate us from Christ. They may keep us from a building for a time, but they cannot keep us from the God who loves us.

Faith remains the bridge.

Faith remains the assurance.

Faith remains the victory.

If you are unable to worship with a church this week—whether because of geography, anxiety, past wounds, illness, or any other reason—remember that God’s presence is not limited to a sanctuary. Read Scripture. Spend a few quiet moments with Him. Listen for His voice in the stillness. And if you are searching for a church home, don’t give up hope. Trust that God will guide you in His time.

Until then, hold fast to the assurance that no one can stand between you and the love of Christ. As Hebrews reminds us, faith is “the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.” Sometimes that assurance is exactly what carries us through until we find our way home.


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Moment of Zen: Sleeping In

After feeding Isabella this morning, I did something I almost never do—I fell back asleep. Every once in a while, an unexpected extra hour or two of sleep is exactly the kind of peace we need.


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