My cousin filed a missing persons report on his wife. The officer asked, “What is her height?” “Average, I guess.”
Officer: “Slim or heavy?” “Not slim, but not heavy.” Officer: “Hair color?” “Kind of blonde, I think.” Officer: “What was she wearing?” “Not sure.” Officer: “Was she driving?” “Yes. A Black Mercedes with a supercharged 3.0 litre V6 engine, an eight-speed automatic transmission. It has full LED headlights, which use light emitting diodes for all light functions and has a very thin scratch on the front left door…”
We somehow seem to remember the things that are most important to us. I can tell you the dates and approximate times my children were born. I can tell you the date I got my first job as an adult. I can tell you what days I got married (all of them), but I can’t tell you what my wife was wearing when she left for work today.
It not that I don’t love my wife, because I do. I just don’t care which outfit she wore to work today. I know she’s going to look nice, but if she chose not to, for whatever reason, I’m down with that, too.
It’s not the same way with women. After 17 years of marriage to Heather, I no longer put up a fight. If we’re going out somewhere, and it doesn’t matter where, she’ll take a look at me and tell me what to change, to tuck in my shirt, wear a different color belt, whatever. There’s always going to be something.
I realize I have no fashion sense. I never have. When I was a kid, I liked the brightest, loudest colors around. Like bright yellow corduroy pants, any color shirt and brown, platform shoes. I see pictures of me then and I still think it was a pretty cool look.
I did the same thing from 32 – 40 years old. Why? I was single. I wore what I wanted, when I wanted it and only my roommate told me that what I was wearing was atrocious. I would wear what I had on anyway. I found that women never criticized me for my choice in attire, because they knew that if we ever got together, she would change me.
There was one really obnoxious sweatshirt that I used to wear on stage. It was white and had a picture of a big frog smoking a cigar. I got it from an audience member in Quebec, therefore the frog. I loved it. It disappeared shortly after I married Heather. Hmmmm…
As a matter of fact, many of my favorite clothing mysteriously disappeared. When we got married, in addition to doing comedy, I had a morning radio show. It was radio, so I normally wore a t-shirt and jeans to work.
That all changed after we married. She would say, “People know who you are and when they see you, you need to look your best. I knew the truth, however. She felt like it was a reflection of her. I don’t think I’ll ever understand that thinking, but then again, that is female logic, and I know I’ll never get that.
So why fight it? We’re going to lose the battle anyway. I just do what I’m told.
See you tomorrow.
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