Man Club Card

So I'm due another notch in my man club card. The other day we went shopping. I agreed to make the trip as I was promised some new walking shoes. My feat have pretty much worn through the sole of my last pair. The old shoes smell bad too. I don't really mind the shoes smelling bad I never leave em anywhere I have to smell em, but the mother starts whining about just how awful it is hence her impetus to purchase me new shoes.

We stopped at the pet store. We already knew I was less than a tough guy due to my love of pets, but I was quite the goof playing with the kittens and talking to the puppies like part of my brain didn't function.

Imagine:

Aren't you a cute little puppy. Oh yes you are. Oh yes you are. Tell mom you wont eat the cats. That's a good puppy. Yes you are.

So then when I thought we would be heading straight to the restaurant I find out we are stopping at Kohls. I don't like Kohls. About the only clothing I would buy there are Levi blue jeans and that is usually a battle to find a pair of 44 inch waist jeans. No fat man's section in Kohls. The shirts they carry I wouldn't want to put on a dress up poodle and the t - shirts are entirely too expensive. But we weren't there to pick out crap clothes for me. No. Mom needed underwear.

Men's underwear comes in a package. You get anywhere from two to six pairs in a package. Even my stylized bikini briefs are rolled up in a tube and sold in sets of three. This is not the way it works for women.

First of all there is this entire section called "intimate apparel." Men don't get that. Our underwear section is a couple racks between the shirts and pants usually located in the same spot where we get our socks and ties. We get no special sign. The "intimate apparel section is about the size of the entire men's department. It's huge. There is no pretending you are really in another department as it takes up an entire wall of the store. The place where men get their ties, underwear and socks is about ten feet square. All the tables and racks are jammed together and if somebody is already looking at the underwear, male ettiquete demands that you spend time looking at the ties belts and wallets until they come clear of the underwear.

So I'm in Kohls with my mother and father shopping for ladies underwear. Now mom has vision troubles these days so the old man and I can't do the typical male thing of standing all the way in the isle and looking off into the air until the woman returns from the intimate apparel foray. No we must wade into the silk garments. I must learn terrible things like the fact that my mother isn't looking for the French cut, she is looking for ladies briefs. Of course underwear cant be grouped by size as that might make sense. No one must look through every item on a rack to find mom's size six or seven. And the print is small so the old man who needs glasses to read has his face practically on top of every pair. I do my best job of staring at the ceiling and avoiding looking anyone in the face.

The isn't so hyper macho thing on my part. I just know that I skate real close to the edge of being a card carrying member of the Man Club and displaying any emotions other than discomfort and unease while in the section would have been an immediate dismissal. (That's what the camera's in the store are fore. It is not theft prevention but the all seeing eye of the Man Club).

So publicly I must say that I am traumatized and this entire affair may indeed require years of therapy (or hard liquor) to get over.

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