There are some things about myself that I have never considered abnormal. Well, not abnormal in the I-have-an-arm-growing-out-of-my-right-ear kind of abnormal, just the not-quite-like-most-people kind. My latest discovery happened the other day as I was helping my wife buy some long underwear.
I've never really shopped in the woman's department before--especially the underwear section. That's not surprising since I didn't date too many girls before my wife and really didn't have too much reason to. I didn't just not go there though, I actually kind of avoided it. That aisle in every department store that always seems to be the shortest route to anywhere and its lined with bras and panties? Ya, I hardly ever used that aisle. I went the long way through the luggage and shoes. In the rare times that I just sucked it up, I kept my eyes pointing straight ahead of me; I guess so that anyone who was watching me--another weird thing about me: I'm pretty sure someone is watching me whenever I'm in public--would assume I just wanted to get to the housewares as soon as possible and not some other weird thing.
In parallel to this, I have always been annoyed when I've had to buy underwear for myself and there has been someone else browsing the same aisles. Even more so if that someone was a woman. I remember one time in particular there was an older couple there who were having a very frank discussion about the various virtues of the types of underwear and which one they should get for the husband. As far as I could tell, he couldn't remember what kind he wore and so they were having to figure it all out again at 60 years old. It made me very uncomfortable. I think I went to look at bath towels for a while until they remembered that he just wanted plain whitey-tighties.
So here I found myself in the women's underwear department, trying to decipher which package of long underwear was the best with a wide variety of bras, socks, panties and other items I couldn't even see the usefulness of on every side. And to make it even more confusing, women's stuff just isn't very utilitarian. Men's long underwear is right there with the other stuff whose sole purpose is to keep us warm. It's in a package that has a warm looking man on it and it looks, first and foremost, warm. Women's long underwear (if I can even call it that) has a picture of a woman on it that looks like she's seducing me. It was between some very creative but definitely not warm socks that go up much farther than a sock needs to go and a display of belts lined with fuzzy fur--I guess so your waist doesn't get cold.
There were, of course, women everywhere. And since I'm married now and have every reason to be looking in that aisle (or so I had convinced myself), I felt a little sorry for the discomfort they must have certainly been feeling. And then I turned malicious. "Serves them right!" I thought to myself, since they insist on always crowding me as I try to find the right combination of style and size in the men's section. I even blatantly glanced at the bras.
Later, when I told my wife about this new turn in my life, this new round of courage I had summoned, this new bit of maturity I had attained, she said to me, "I doubt anyone even noticed you were a guy. Most girls don't really care."
"Oh," I said.
"But these look really cute!" she replied. "Good job!"
I hope that "cute" and "warm" are somewhat synonymous.
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