9-Pack: Comfort Republic Bamboo Viscose Briefs

They’re not as tight or as white as tighty whities, and not as boxy as boxers
In brief, they’re briefs (and trunks)
Made with 95% bamboo viscose & 5% spandex… that’s the premium stuff
You will receive a random assortment of colors (see the link above for a visual, we’ve got all colors)
Offered in Small - 6XL (size chart here)
If you’re between sizes or your legs are on the thicker side, go with one size up
Favorite painter of suggestive flowers: Georgia O’Brieffe

see more product specs

A Small Comfort

Paul sat at the dining table on his computer.

“'Sup roomie,” said Greg, walking in with a green smoothie. “Whatcha up to?”

“Just looking for stuff online,” Paul said, without looking up. “I need something. Something fun. Comfortable. But also with some structure. It’s so hard to find the right balance. You know what I mean?”

Greg sat down, across the table. He suddenly looked pale a ghost. “I do. I know more than you can ever imagine, Paul. It starts out small. You go 65 in a 55. Maybe you start changing lanes without your blinker. And then there comes the time when you try and thread the needle between two semis–one in the passing lane, one in the right–with barely enough room for your car to fit, but you pull it off perfectly. And it doesn’t feel like you cheated death; it feels like death is impossible. It feels like you’re invincible. So you start driving like that all the time. Next thing you know you’re cruising along at night, no headlights on, the road lit only by the moon, pushing 100 miles per hour along a cliffside pass overlooking the sea. And amazingly, it’s like you said, Paul: this is the only way you feel comfortable anymore, this is the only way you know how to have fun. You don’t worry about yourself, about your own well-being, and you’re right not to. Because you’re not the one you have to worry about. It’s the old man on the side of the road. He’s just a silhouette, and you barely feel it when you clip him, but over the cliff he goes. You pull off and try and make your way down to the beach below, but the tide is in. Next morning, you go checking but there’s nothing. You watch the news for three days. No word. No one looking for anyone. The damage to your car is minimal, really just enough so you know you didn’t dream the whole thing. You got away with it, you realize. Only, not from everyone, not from yourself. You decide to turn over a new leaf. You set your cruise control to the speed limit. You get certified. You start teaching driving courses. You’re the traffic school teacher no one wants, because you’re so uptight about this stuff. Where once there was a wild streak now there is structure. Maybe too much structure, maybe enough to drive you crazy. Because you see him, the old man. Though you never even got a clear look at his face, you know it’s him, in the back of one of your classes. You start sweating. You start rushing through the lesson. When it’s all over, you follow him out, follow him down the street. You grab him by the shoulder, ready to yell, ready to demand what he wants from you, only the person who turns around is some 16-year-old kid. And you realize, he was never there, but also he will always be there. You realize you missed your chance at finding any balance in your life. You went from completely unwound to wound too tight, and now what you have to look forward to is a lifetime of regret and fear, a lifetime of–”

“Oh, check it out. These ones they’re selling on Meh look good,” Paul said. He turned his computer so Greg could see.

Greg squinted at the screen and then up at Paul. “You were talking about briefs? Like underwear?”

“Yeah, exactly. Something that’s comfortable and structured,” Paul said. “Sorry, I was a little distracted. What were you saying?”

“Oh, nothing,” Greg said, taking a sip of his smoothie. “Just that that’s how I like my underwear too.”

9-Pack: Comfort Republic Bamboo Viscose Briefs

A Small Comfort

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