I walked in my house and thought, what the fuck?

“What the fuck?” I was calm, careful not to yell.

“What?” Ben said. Ben was my roommate, a friend of a friend who had needed a place at the same time as I. I’d moved back to town after following a couple of different girls to various crazyass places across the country. Places I never thought I’d drive through much less live. Cities like Akron, Ohio; Tallahasse, Florida. So, Ben and I weren’t buddy-buddy or anything; some days it seemed weirder than others to hang out on the couch and watch TV and share dinner with a dude I didn’t really know, but he was cool enough.

When I didn’t respond, Ben gave me a little head nod and asked “What?” again. Then he scratched his chest and said, “Oh, right. These.” He was wearing my suspenders and he slipped a thumb under each strap and gave them a flick against his chest. “I saw ‘em in the laundry room and wondered where the hell they’d come from,” he said. “And I’d never worn suspenders before so I got curious what they’d be like and tried ‘em on. Sorry if they’re yours.”

Which: 1) was a lie, because I kept them stashed in a box in my closet, meaning Ben had not only gone in my room but must have really been digging through shit. And, 2) Ben was shirtless. And wearing spandex shorts, which I’d never actually seen before but knew about because he’d told me he liked to wear them under his shorts instead of underwear when he ran or played ball or, basically, did anything athletic, because of how they kept him all “together-like.”

At this point, I furthermore thought: 1) that is much, much more of your package than I ever hoped to see, and 2) those shorts are so tight, it doesn’t seem like they could be moved up or down, with or without the help of suspenders, so what’s even the point?

“And… I gotta say,” Ben continued, “they feel kinda awesome, you know?”

I shook my head. No, no in answer to the question; I didn’t know. No, no in disbelief. No, no to the whole fucking thing.

But, the problem was: Yes. Yes, I did know. Yes, they really do feel kinda awesome.

This girl, Tina, bought those suspenders for me from a thrift store as a joke. And one night I drunkenly put them on, even though I’d already taken my shirt off, and yes they felt kinda awesome. Yes, Tina laughed at me, and yes her laughter turned me on as much as it always did, and yes it led to amazing sex that night. Like, sex I still specifically remember. And then, a few nights later, drunk again, she put them on topless. And, yes, she worked them so the straps were perfectly balanced over her nipples which, yes, obviously, was sexy as hell, and when they slipped, the straps just pushed her tits together which, yes, was also sexy as hell. Yes. And when a girl like that asks you to move to middle of fucking nowhere, Nebraska, which is basically anywhere in Nebraska, you nod your head and say yes, of course, and then when you get there and she leaves you, you wander around aimlessly for a while, and find another girl or two to follow to new cities and you keep the suspenders in a box with all the other shit you should throw away but you just can’t make yourself, until one day, yes, your roommate apparently digs through your shit – and who knows what else he might have found – and he finds them and puts them on and fucks up every image you’ve tried to hold onto, even when you were mostly trying not to. And, yes, what the fuck?

Read more about Aaron here.

Read more about Kim here.