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"A year ago, my friend Erik and I had the same backpack. Then he replaced his with a leather messenger bag. Now he&amp;amp;#8217;s engaged to a stunning and otherwise lovely woman. I still carry that backpack. Single as ever. Coincidence? Maybe. I&amp;amp;#8217;m not saying my preference in bag dictates my romantic success, but this situation got me thinking about the stuff I wear, carry, and otherwise own. The conclusion: I accessorize like a 12-year-old. Pop Quiz: Is this present-day me or me circa 2003? (Try to ignore the beard.) There&amp;amp;#8217;s the backpack, which makes it look like I&amp;amp;#8217;m going on a hike/to social studies class. Not to mention: I wear the same boxers my mom bought in middle school. Because boxer briefs feel, let&amp;amp;#8217;s just say, restrictive. I have never, ever worn a watch. Meanwhile, my friends have girlfriends who buy them watches. I&amp;amp;#8217;m oh-for-two. I carry a wallet made out of parachute material. My dad bought us both one several years ago, which, spacious and lightweight, plays enabler to our mutual card-hoarding tendencies. I&amp;amp;#8217;ve worn the same glasses since 2002. They&amp;amp;#8217;ve needed replacing long before Warby Parker monopolized the optical market for quasi-hipsters. I received my current pair of sunglasses at a bat mitzvah. I&amp;amp;#8217;m guaranteed to lose or break a pair of Oakleys in about 20 minutes, so thanks again, Rachel: I truly did &amp;amp;#8220;have a (beach) ball!&amp;amp;#8221; at your party. And these are just my juvenile accessories, even beyond my stunted taste in fashion (high-school powder puff T-shirts) and cuisine (PB&amp;amp;J for lunch all day, errday LIKE A BOSS). So, what does this say about me? Of course, there&amp;amp;#8217;s the financial aspect: as a writer, I&amp;amp;#8217;m not in a position to splurge on custom monogrammed belt buckles, if that&amp;amp;#8217;s even a thing. It&amp;amp;#8217;s also a matter of pragmatism: My backpack is waterproof and hands-free, which means I can hold a balloon and a lollipop and splash in puddles all at the same time! More important, though, I think my regressive habits indicate a subconscious attempt to maintain simplicity. As the class-consciousness of adulthood&amp;amp;#8217;s material world turns me into a material girl, my white tube socks and tacky hand-me-down luggage are a statement&amp;amp;#8212;mostly to myself&amp;amp;#8212;that I don&amp;amp;#8217;t need nice things to feel adequate or fulfilled. It&amp;amp;#8217;s also about nostalgia, hearkening back to a simpler time when, as kids, our stuff didn&amp;amp;#8217;t matter so much. Weirdly, though, this subconscious attitude is counterintuitive to the very conscious issues and deliberate decisions I make as a 20-something. I&amp;amp;#8217;m constantly concerned whether women&amp;amp;#8212;especially older women, who I tend to date&amp;amp;#8212;think I&amp;amp;#8217;m adequate and attractive and adult enough. My Cinnamon Toast Crunch fetish may suggest that that I&amp;amp;#8217;m avoiding adulthood, yet I&amp;amp;#8217;m self-conscious about my age to the point where, until now, I&amp;amp;#8217;ve purposely omitted it from these articles. I&amp;amp;#8217;m 24. There. I said it. And then it occurs to me that despite some razzing from friends and coworkers&amp;amp;#8212;&amp;amp;#8220;Let&amp;amp;#8217;s play a game: Are You Older Than a Fifth Grader?&amp;amp;#8221;&amp;amp;#8212;no girl I&amp;amp;#8217;ve dated has ever mentioned or complained about any of the above. It&amp;amp;#8217;s never been an issue or even a point of conversation. Of course, they could be hiding it from me, but it&amp;amp;#8217;s more likely that they just don&amp;amp;#8217;t care, that I&amp;amp;#8217;ve internally cultivated this misguided self-consciousness&amp;amp;#8212;along with the help of men&amp;amp;#8217;s magazines&amp;amp;#8212;about women emphasizing the stuff I have. In my experience, a woman cares far more about lively conversation than my stupid parachute wallet. And if she didn&amp;amp;#8217;t, we wouldn&amp;amp;#8217;t be together in the first place. Maybe rather than trying to change what I have, I&amp;amp;#8217;ll just focus on who I am. Besides, these boxers are really, really soft. So, how much do you care about a guy&amp;amp;#8217;s accessories? His clothes? His taste in general? Comment below or on my Facebook. Photo by Keri Goff"^^<http://www.w3.org/2001/XMLSchema#string>
<http://www.glamour.com/sex-love-life/blogs/smitten/2013/07/i-wear-the-same-boxers-my-mom>