Allow me to warn you.  Men’s short shorts are making a fashion come back.  Soon bare legs will be everywhere.  Nake-y, hairy legs sauntering through local farmers markets, in the grocery, at concerts.  Men in short shorts mowing lawns, walking past your table at restaurants, and perhaps even greeting you at church on Sunday morning.

And I don’t mean a little bit shorter shorts.  I mean authentic short shorts with a 5 ½” inseam. Tiny shorts designed to somehow cover all that is within…while simultaneously exposing the full length and breadth of the wearer’s quadriceps.  Don’t believe me?  Check out the Adidas, Nike, and REI websites.

Why the warning?  Because, Boomer friends, the first time you see a young man walking toward you with his quads exposed, you will likely react in one of two ways.  Some of you will wrinkle your faces in disgust and utter some form of a judgmental “tsk-tsk.”  While others of you will tilt your head, perhaps blush and then you will…for lack of a better word…titter.  I am a member of the latter group.

So, what is it about the return of men’s short shorts causing Boomer women to titter and blush like virginal school girls?

We gigglers are definitely not giggling over the novelty of seeing men in short shorts.   Boomers grew up in an era when short shorts were a summer wardrobe staple.  Every boyfriend, guy friend, runner, basketball player, and random dude under thirty wore short shorts.   Even Grateful Dead guitarist Bob Weir (pictured above) rocked a pair of male Daisy Dukes.  Short shorts were not distasteful or particularly sexual.  They were just…shorts.

Nor is our tittering of a sexual nature, per se, at least not towards the young men in 2021.  These guys are the same age as our sons or maybe even our grandsons!  So obviously we are not flirtatiously giggling in a creepy coo-coo-kachoo Mrs. Robinson kind of way.

Author Madeline L’Engle once said, “I am every age I have ever been.” Perhaps for some of us, this could be the reason we can’t suppress our giggles.  As for me, seeing young men in short shorts conjures up my inner 12 and 16 year old selves.  And they were virginal school girls the last time guys wore short shorts.

My inner 12 year old causes most of my blushing and tittering.  Guys in short shorts remind her of the summer her little ears were burned by the lyrics of the most erotic, salacious song she had ever heard.   The chorus was simple, “Come on baby light my fire, try to set the night on fire.” Those thirteen words were a topic of many summer slumber parties.  She and her fellow 12 year old girlfriends discussed all kinds of theories about exactly what it meant to light this guy’s fire.  And the mere speculation of what it would take to set a whole dang night on fire sent them into fits of laughter.      

My inner 16 year old self doesn’t titter at the sight of a guy in short shorts.  She just freezes my face with a goofy, blissful smile that I find nearly impossible to over-ride.  I feel her joy and light-heartedness as she reveled in summer freedom and long days spent with friends.  Through her I once again feel my hand on my boyfriend’s quads.  Skin to skin.  This is not a sexual pass; it is a posture of pure intimacy.  My hand on his quads is a physical proclamation of connection, trust, belonging and first love.

As for me, my fully integrated, current aged self, I see a young guy in short shorts with long, strong, young quads walking towards me and I fight an urge.  I want to strike up a conversation.  I want to ask him, “Where in the world do you put your gigantic iPhone?  There’s no way it fits into those tiny little pockets!”

What’s a boomer to do?  Make it a fun filled summer.  Invite your inner, younger selves out to play.  They really are quite fun.