Growing up, I was an undies guy.
When I got my first college apartment where I wasn’t sharing a room, the undies went flying.
My buddy’s sister learned not to walk into my room when I was sleeping unless she wanted an eye full. She learned it the hard way (pun moderately unintended).
When I got married, I continued my free bird ways. The wife sleeps in my T-Shirts, making it impossible to find a T-Shirt on the weekends.
I pretty much slept in the buff from college until the birth of my son. Once he was in the bed with us at night, or there was a chance he’d come down in the middle of the night to get in the bed with mommie and daddy, it was time to add boxers to the equation.
John Lennon, I am not.