An Open Letter to Myself


NOTE TO READER:  This is a very old blog I wrote in 2009.  It was published on and then swiftly erased several years later due to a custody dispute with my brain.  Its contents do not necessarily reflect the views of Mike Vitale.  However, in a childish attempt to shuck responsibility, I have reposted this entry as a means or further alienating myself from myself.  You had it coming, me.  Wow, I just made my head hurt.  Proceed:

Dear Mike,

I want to be upfront with you about the way I’ve felt lately, and I know that you feel the same way I do considering how close we are (both figuratively and physically).  I need you to know that the decisions you make have a profound effect on my happiness and general comfort level—and I must say, your decisions lately have inevitably led to a great deal of discomfort and unhappiness on my part, hence this letter.

You see, it all started with your latest purchase: a pair of briefs, underwear, at the local designer clothing store.  For years now, you have done right by me, taking great care in purchasing what I prefer: boxer briefs.  Generally, and in my humble opinion, I think you look far more attractive in them; they are loose and casual, comfortable and dynamic in their flow and adhesiveness.  I feel quite at home in them.  

Now, I am all about self-exploration.  I mean, come on.  We’ve had our fair share of creative shenanigans together (you remember that time with the rubber bands?), and I certainly want you to try new things, or, in this particular case, retry new old things that you used to do twenty to twenty five years ago, when you didn’t have a choice.  Christmas was always socks and Fruit of the Loom briefs from mom and dad (hi mom and dad).  But I digress.

Look, I was fine when you came home with the first pair of brand new designer briefs from the store a week or two ago, but then, as if to add insult to injury, just a few days ago, YOU BOUGHT TWO MORE PAIR!  What on Earth were you thinking?!  I feel dizzy and sweaty just thinking about it.  It’s like I’m stuck with this decision in much the same manner as I am your leg, and I don’t like it!  No sir!  

It’s like my creativity and general comfort level suffocates as the borders of your briefs draw closer and closer to me with every wash and dry cycle  Those 100% cotton abominations of nature!  YOU should be ashamed!  That wedgie you are feeling right now up your fault line is no fault of mine and you know it!  Think of the cocoa brown stains that could happen if you weren’t thorough!  What would a lady friend think of that?  Answer me!

[deep breath] I’m sorry…

I need to know: is it something I did or said?  Look, I love you, and I want you to be happy.  Talk to me.  We can work this out.  I just want everything (specifically, underwear) to be more like how they used to be—when the things between us were young, new, fresh, more boxer-brief-like, and consensual.


Your Testicles