An Ode to Grey Sweatpants

Grey sweats.

The suit and tie of our generation.

Not exactly, but still…

I still remember my first pair, second hand and oversized. They had served some husky dude for what was probably 4 years before they lived in my closet until this last move, I finally had to let them go, but oh how I used and abused them. I bought them with the intent of wearing them to paint the house but the minute I pulled them on it was love.

Felt like being home, being held by a cloud. So warm, so roomy. I finally understood all those women in the grocery stores wearing something similar. Liberating to be drowning in soft grey jersey, all my curves hidden from view.

I became a collector. I have sexy sweats and ones that feel like home and hugs. A whole laundry basket full. It’s hard to pry me out of them now.

Wearing a pair right now actually, although not the big ones. And I have a boy coming over, he will invariably be in sweats too. Because we discussed this.

Seriously. There is something about a dude in a pair of grey sweats, clean of course, with a spotless white t-shirt.

I hit a new level of smitten with Lumberjack way back when he invited me over out of the blue. I was exhausted from a long day and although I REALLY wanted to see him, I did not feel like dolling myself up at all. Said I would come over but I was in comfy clothes, and wanted to stay that way. He messaged back he had just put his on.  “Just get over here dork”.
I melted and the visual matched the fantasy upon arrival.

I switched from my ‘bumming around the house’ pjs and showed up wearing my cutest grey sweats, the ones that hugged my butt just right and are oh so soft to the touch.

I spent many a happy moment on his comfy giant sized couch with the jersey of his sweats caressing my cheek, my head in his lap and his hand tucked in said pants, caressing my ass.

It can go the other way too.

In a little known movie called Extract, Jason Bateman knows he isn’t getting laid the second the drawstring is tied on his wife’s track pants. It becomes a running joke throughout the movie.

Personally? I like the ease of access with a drawstring instead of trying to wiggle out of a pair of skinny jeans or the seam marks left by leggings. The only thing better is a skirt or a dress, but that denotes going out, and I would rather stay home.

My first date with Young Un the first he told me a story wherein he had gotten catfished by a girl he knew from high school. She showed up carrying a 6 pack of Coors Lite and about 60 pounds more than she showed on Facebook. She was wearing what he described as “I gave up on life a while ago” sweat pants.

I know them well, I have owned them, mowed the lawn in them, bled all over them and yes…when life was too hard and I had pretty much given up, they became my sad girl uniform.

I always joked that one day when he showed up at my door I’d be wearing them. He didn’t mind, he knew what was underneath.

He never did see me in them. Although, he did publicly state that I was beautiful no matter what I was wearing, even my man jeans. I have a pair of worn in dude jeans too that I adore.

Only one man saw me in them, Moon Face. I pulled them on to walk him to the door one chilly morning. Asked him not to judge me when he gave me the once over. Instead he smirked in his maddening way and pulled them down half over my ass and snapped this picture of me, messy in the morning, holding onto him like he was a headboard and the Titanic had just sank.

 

 

 

 

I was as comfortable with him as I was in those pants. And for a time, he saved me.

 

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Giant came over to pick up some bookshelves after we had split. On went the slightly too small sweats, waistband rolled down so just a little lace peeked out, messy bun, not there but there make up. I knew what I was doing, calculating my cuteness to be casual and accidental.

He mentioned it the other day, 14 months later. I admitted what I did and he just smiled and kissed me. He knows what a brat I am, we can smell our own.

And what of this one wandering over tonight?

Well, as I am writing the rest of this the morning after, it is safe to say that grey sweats were the way to go. Easy on and off. Just easy.

He had been in my bed before and it went badly.

But we stripped away the stress and pretense.

Zero expectations and a pair of grey sweats.