Ain’t Nuthin’ But a Jimmy Thang


My friend, Robert (not his real name), likes to wear his pants very tight. So tight, in fact, that you can see the outline of his “jimmy” through the pants. I call them his “Jimmy Pants.”

Robert has dated several men (not an excessive amount, he’s not a man-whore or anything) since we’ve been friends. And he is currently seeing someone new.

In the past, Robert has had a problem with his boyfriends hating how tightly he wore his pants—because of the “jimmy issue.” They have told him that he isn’t wearing the right kind of underwear or not wearing the correct size, and Robert, freely encourages them to buy him the proper support system for his “jimmy.” Consequently, he has more undies than Victoria’s Secret (or in his case, Victor’s Secret) and nothing helps. His Jimmy is out there, baby!

Today, Robert and I went to a deli to get a sandwich for lunch, and he was explaining the details of his “jimmy dilemma” to me. But Robert can’t just tell a story verbally, he talks loudly and there is always gesticulation, usually some dancing and sometimes there are props.

Today was one of those times.

Robert illustrated the “Jimmy Situation” to me, using a plastic spoon (in a sanitary plastic sleeve- which, oddly, gave the illusion of a non-circumcised jimmy) as the “meat” and a full, hot, to-go container of curried-zucchini soup as his “veg.” He explained that because his “veg” are so large, his “meat” doesn’t really sit, or lay or dangle, properly. Sometimes it is berry, berry, twig. Sometimes twig, berry, berry. Sometimes berry, berry with the twig on top. When the meat and veg are in that configuration, the meat” protrudes and the jimmy appears to be large, unruly, moose-knuckle-ish and on display in his unreasonably-snug pants.

As he was explaining this to me- there are plenty of people around- a young woman wearing a sweatshirt, shorts and Uggs (a look I am SO over, by the way) was listening intently, business men listening and high-fiving each other, house-wives drooling and ordering extra bologna, young children eavesdropping and running away in confusion and terror.

Finally, an old woman, walked by, caught wind of the colorful conversation, her eyes bugged out and she looked terrified. Then she turned, craned her neck and looked down directly at the “area in question,” observed and gave this “yeehaw! Prune juice is buy one, get one” smile.

There was, absolutely, no room in those Jimmy Pants for her…


2 Responses to “Ain’t Nuthin’ But a Jimmy Thang”

  1. Grace G-R Says:

    “Go Granny”! She finaly sees someone with Plums instead of Prunes.

  2. Tom Says:

    krimuski yes

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