The fad started when I was in eighth grade, and continued through the entirety of Freshman year at the all-boys prep school I went to. It stopped abruptly a year or so later. This story, though, takes place at the fad’s peak.
So. Freshman year. I had, I think, six different pairs of parachute pants. I wore them Saturdays and Sundays, no matter what. During the week? At school? I slowed it down a bit, and wore them maybe twice a week. If I felt okay, I’d push it to three. Even though I had six or seven different pairs (One pair I had was red with black zippers that showed the black nylon underneath. They were my most…elaborate pair.) I had my favorites, or most-worn pairs. They were the black/black pair, and a blue pair with lighter blue zippers. Those two pairs were the foremost in my rotation. My sister used to tease me. “Nice ‘chutes, Ry.” One time I laughed because she said “Hey, nice clothes, Ryan. I’ve got an idea! Have you ever heard of Parachute Pants?” Yeah, she could be funny sometimes.
At that time, at that age, I knew I liked girls. My girlfriend and I (the makeup girlfriend) were still going out. But I knew that guys held a certain allure for me. I didn’t freak out, or get depressed or confused. It was like, Oh, okay. I like boys, too. No big deal, though I did keep this secret to myself, and one at-the-time girl who was a “friend.” Turns out she wasn’t keeping my secret amongst her friends. Found that out years later. Anyway…
There was a boy in my home room class, and my math class, named Kevin H. (I guess I shouldn’t tell his last name.) Well, he wore parachute pants every damn day! He wasn’t one of the break dancer guys who’d show off their skills in the hallways during lunch periods. No, I don’t think Kevin was a break dancer. He was a little more masculine than me, he even had the thin mustache that 13 year old boys can get if they’re of a certain nationality. But there was also something soft about him. He had beautiful olive skin and a stunning smile. Unfortunately, though we were both aware of each other, we never became friends, or even conversed with each other. Kevin wore his PPs fitted, like I did. And he had that body that could carry it off, too. Certainly, I know that while I got teased by preppy kids for wearing PPs, they liked Kevin, and left him alone. I can’t figure out why, except that Kevin was more popular than I.
In home room, he was seated across the room from me, so I couldn’t really talk with him at all. Since it was the second period of the day, I’d always check him out to see which of his ‘chutes he was wearing that day. My favorite of his was a white pair, with gray zippers that were placed in slightly different places than the usual Bugle Boys. He effin’ rocked those pants! (?) since they were tight, they totally showed off his (larger than mine) package.
I’ll never forget math class that year. I was seated one row away from him, in the last seats. I would bow my head and out of my peripheral vision I could see his nylon-covered package when he was seated. It always looked like he had an erection, but that wasn’t true. I knew because it always looked that way, and when he got called to do a problem at the blackboard, he wasn’t at all stereotypically hunched over to hide his boner. No, he was just blessed with a perfect bulge. When Kevin was at the front of the class, his back turned to the room, I would gaze at his perfect ass. It was gorgeous. Perfect. (Naturally, the fact that his lower body was covered with nylon was the obsession here.)
Good god! If I didn’t know I also liked guys, Kevin H. certainly proved to me and my raging hormones that like it or not: I liked guys. And girls. But if I had to say which sex I leaned towards or preferred; I would have to admit (as if you can’t tell by my posts) that I found myself fantasizing about boys rather than girls. And even all these years later, I still picture Kevin H in my head. The way his long, thin legs looked walking in parachute pants. The way his bulge looked when seated at his school desk. And his nylon clad legs when at the chalkboard. But even though he had a bigger collection of PPs than I did (at the time), the white, with gray zippers, are the pants I’ll never forget. It’s been many years, and I haven’t yet.
If you’re out there somewhere: Thank You, Kevin. You have no idea what you did for me. And more importantly, did to me.