The Dress Enters The Man Cave

May 25, 2011 by

The Little Black Dress and I do not shop together.

Years ago, we attempted said act. During the attempt, we watched another young couple, complete with baby in stroller, shopping. The wife would hold up something, the husband would ooh and aah. There was possible a “coo” in there as well. And they’d giggle and smile at each other.

“Yeah, like that will ever happen,” The Dress said.

Two points for her.

Occasionally, and purely out of necessity, we actually are in the same store at the same time. This usually involves the Big Box Store That Has Everything You Need To Build Your Own House All By Yourself.  She gets what she needs, I do the same, we meet up at checkout. Ta da.

That is pretty much the extent of it. For example, I will not enter her sanctum, which is any store with “shoe” in the name. She knows I will only say three things in between tapping my foot or scowling through yet another magazine where every quote starts with “this year it’s all about …”

No. 1 – the routine, “you’ve got to be kidding me;” No. 2 – the rare, “okay, those are actually hot;” No. 3 – and the constant, “can we go now?”

Every now and then, I get what is sometimes called a “wild hair.” Or, in more common terms, tempting fate.

Such an event occurred just recently, when I asked The Dress if she’d like to head up to the big city for lunch at a great Greek restaurant that serves gyros the size of Mount Olympus.

“There’s an REI along the way, isn’t there?” she said.

You know, come to think of it …  

For those of you not in the know, REI is the Holy Grail, Mecca, Nirvana of all things camping and backpacking. It has everything you don’t really need, but have to have.

The Dress is a trooper; we are off. I am in a state of bliss, I have the LBD beside me and we’re off to The Store. Okay, I’m drooling over myself.

We open the doors to the earthly heaven and are greeted, as always, with the sounds of the Hallelujah Chorus. I always love that.

And I head off to where any self-respecting gear slave immediately goes – that being the “gear section.” After spending way too much time considering the vast array of things I absolutely didn’t need, I collect a small assortment of things I absolutely have to have. And then I looked up and The Dress is nowhere to be seen.

I first considered seeing if she was in the shoe department; but scratched that idea as they do not sell high-heeled hiking boots. So I made my way over to the clothing department.

“Do you like these?”

I turned and saw the LBD holding up “these.” And lord help me, I actually did an “ooh” followed by an “aah.” There was no “coo.”

“These” were a pair of bikini underwear. And yes, they were black. Let us consider what is transpiring at this moment: the Little Black Dress is asking me if I like a little black pair of bikini underwear. For her to wear, mind you.

“Um, yeah, okay, whatever.”

Apparently, these were super-duper incredible underwear, at least according to the information packet attached to said pair of little black bikini underwear.

“Seventeen countries, six weeks, one pair of underwear,” the LBD quoted.

Come again?

“Seventeen countries, six weeks, one pair of underwear … it’s all you need,” she said.

Yeah. The Dress and I have a pretty good understanding of marketing, and agree we’ll just take that “promise” one day at a time. But I do end up getting them for her, because, well, you know, she said she wanted to try them out. And who am I to deny the LBD?

It is not until later, while devouring the aforementioned Mount Olympus gyros, that it hits me. Only The Dress could walk into the biggest outdoor gear store in the country and walk out with a pair of little black bikini underwear.

And I also realize that some days, my life is hard.

But not always.








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