And It Begins

Wish me luck, Dear Reader. In a few short minutes, my wife and some friends will be escorting me to a local mall where, I am told, new cloting will be selected for me. Promises have been made that this is a minor trip, that we’re only getting a few select things, but of course you can trust women in this matter about as far as you can throw them. It’s not like if there’s some kind of incredible sale on something we didn’t plan on getting I’ll have any bargaining chip to retort with. “You said we were only getting jeans” doesn’t even need a reply, it’s such a whiny, adolescent defense. I’m going out there helpess, completely at their mercy.

The good news is that I normally quite enjoy employing my wife as my resident stylist; she bought me the suit I wore to Mimi’s funeral, and I think it was quite a hit. She got me interested in the wrinkle-free collared shirts that Brooks Brothers sells, and I am now addicted to those. For the most part, it’s a harmonious relationship, because for some reason women enjoy clothing men more than they do themselves. It must be some kind of advanced, grown up version of playing with dolls. I also think male clothing is less stressful and gives you more options, and they need vicarious breaks from the hellish whirlwind of their fashion lives.

It’s also good because Corelyn has impeccable taste, even considering men. I’ve noticed recently that Allen women all have a profound understanding of and comfort around the opposite sex. More and more I encounter ladies in everyday life who are befuddled by us, completely at a loss, and it’s taken me some time to realize that I’m quite unforgiving of this completely understandable shortcoming because all of the relevant females in my life can read a man like a book. It follows naturally that they can also dress them. Caroline and mom also used to be partially in charge of my fashion statements, and they were responsible for selecting the style of jeans and cologne that I wear to this day.

Anyway, it’s about that time, and the womenfolk are impatient to get going. It’s best not to keep them waiting.

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