I Love Him . . . Just Don’t Make Me Shop With Him
Posted: Wednesday, November 30, 2011
by Brianna Popsickle
The Christmas season is upon us. It’s that time of year when we’re making lists and checking them twice, while visions of sugarplums dance in our heads.
Oh, cut the crap!
The truth is I work in retail and had just been given my hours for the month of December. I’d spent the last couple of weeks tying red bows on bottles of fragrance and strategically placing glass containers filled with brightly coloured balls throughout the boutique where I work. Much to my horror, Christmas carols have been playing since the Halloween merchandise was swiftly tucked away.
Such talk had me in a panic and going somewhere I’d always tried to avoid. I found myself slithering under our crawlspace, dragging out the Christmas decorations the second week in November. I worked frantically and by the time my husband arrived home from work, I’d driven to the store three times to replace strands of lights, decorated the tree, and had sprinkled little bits of Christmas throughout our house.
He took one look and said, “What are you doing? It’s too soon!” At which point I grabbed our calendar and shoved it in his face.
“Look,” I said, pointing at all the dates circled in red. “I work almost every day and some nights,” I exclaimed. “There’s brunches and parties and the kid’s are coming home to stay for days, with dates. I have to think about the food, the gifts, the baking, my parents, the turkey, the weather! And there’s not enough time!”
“It’ll work out,” he said calmly, which made my blood boil.
Of course it would work out, it always did.
How did he think that happened every year?
I was thrilled when, with just a little encouragement, he appeased me and put up our outdoor lights weeks earlier than usual. To me it made sense to get the job done while it was still relatively warm out. He argued he preferred to wait until it was snowing because it felt more ‘Christmassy’, (obviously he was forgetting the previous years when I literally had to pry his frozen fingers from the ladder and thaw him out for hours before he could move).
He must have realized there actually was a lot to do, because he shocked me when he suggested we go Christmas shopping together.
There are two things you should know. One; he isn’t a shopper and two; we shop differently.
I like the list. I like to go out knowing what I’m looking for, but if I happen to see something else that interests me along the way, I like to stop and consider it.
He on the other hand likes to go to a store for one item, get it, and leave.
So once again, I was shocked when we arrived at the store and he said, “I know you like to look at everything, so let’s start over there and go up and down each aisle.”
How fortunate for him we happened to be in a massive hardware type store, which men like to frequent. You know, the kind that smells like freshly cut wood.
We proceeded to walk each aisle looking for the perfect gift for our daughter’s boyfriend. Row after row of tools, screws and what-do-you-call it’s. I was relieved when we finally reached the three aisles dedicated to keeping the wives happy. You know, the ones with shiny kitchen appliances, candles, and home décor items (all the pretty, useful stuff).
Two hours later, we left the hardware store with a single Crock-Pot.
We’ve discovered one other difference when it comes to shopping. When he finds something he likes, he asks himself if it’s exactly what he’s looking for. Could he do better? Is it a good price? He considers all of his options.
If I see something I like, I get it. Simple. Done!
It’s okay that we have our own shopping preferences. It’s when we inflict those habits on each other it gets frustrating.
Take the coat incident for example. He’d mentioned weeks ago that he’d like to find a new jacket and today while at the mall, he did just that. It fit him, was a great colour, waterproof and good in sub-zero temperatures. It was perfect! I watched as he tried it on then took it off, then tried it on again. Almost half an hour later (valuable shopping time wasted) he said, “No, I don’t think I’ll get it.”
“Why?” I asked bewildered. “Is it because it’s good in sub-zero weather, the right size and colour, or a decent price? Is it too perfect for you?”
“I just don’t really need it,” he answered, and then proceeded to remind me throughout the day how he’d ‘saved’ us a couple of hundred dollars by not purchasing the coat.
In the meantime, when I stopped to look at anything that wasn’t on ‘the list’, I’d feel him hovering over me, shuffling his feet like he was anxious to get moving. Then he’d ask, “Don’t we have one of those? Do we really need that? Or, I thought you already got so- and-so their gift.”
@#$#$#@
At one point, we managed to get separated (and no, it wasn’t entirely intentional). I told him I was going to look at pajamas for my Dad, and took the long way getting there, ducking in to the clothing and houseware departments along the way.
I eventually began to look for him and just when I was considering having them page for my missing husband, I found him in the sports department. He gave me a maniacal look as I carefully pried the golf club from his hand. We decided it was time to break for lunch.
He took me to a new place he’d tried, called Mucho Burrito. There was little English on the menu that hung over the counter. I let him order for me and found us a table. He brought me a burrito the size of a small animal. I wouldn’t have to eat again for days.
We proceeded to our last stop of the day. The parking lot was full. It was Sunday and sadly, I told my husband it seemed to me that this warehouse style store, to which you had to purchase a membership to shop in, had become the new church for many. The place was crawling with people.
It was new to us, having just become members. We were told you could get great deals, the only downfall being you had to buy things in bulk. You know, six bottles of toilet bowl cleaner, forty batteries or a dozen rolls of paper towels.
My husband who doesn’t usually get into the whole shopping experience was suddenly like a kid at Christmas, running from aisle to aisle, pulling stuff from the shelves asking, “How much do you usually pay for one when you buy this? Is this a deal?”
As we rounded a corner, I got a whiff of coffee. It smelled wonderful. But one of my pet peeves is people who drink coffee while shopping. Not only do they slow things down for the rest of us when they’re unable to steer the cart one-handed, it annoys me when they leave their half-emptied cup on a shelf just waiting for someone to knock it over.
As it turned out, there was a display booth distributing little cups of coffee as samples. The mucho burrito taste still fresh in my mouth, a coffee was just what I needed. We each got one.
It hit the spot as we happily resumed our shopping. Suddenly my husband yelled, “Bacon! Three packs for eight dollars.” He ran to the freezer and threw open the door. Coffee in hand, he reached up with both hands, tipping his cup, pouring coffee down the entire inside sleeve of his coat. He stood in disbelief for a moment with his arm in the air.
Who does that? I wondered.
I started to laugh, then shake as the tears rolled down my cheeks. I tried to collect myself only to start laughing all over again.
Earlier in the day, I thought I was going to kill him, now he had me laughing so hard I thought I’d die.
“Want to go back and get the coat?” I asked.
He gave a half-hearted smirk.
We arrived home tired at the end of the day and lugged our purchases inside. We had sixty batteries (we may eventually need), a hundred and twenty freezer bags, tons of meat and enough paper towels and dish soap to last us a lifetime.
My husband pulled out the Christmas list and stroked off one item, the Crock-Pot. A day of shopping together and we hadn’t even put a dent in the list.
“We’ll have to go shopping again next weekend,” my husband said seriously.
I smiled and thought, “I love him, just don’t make me shop with him.”
I took the list from his hand and said, “No worries. It’ll all work out.”
Just like he said. It always does.
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Top-level comments on this article: (9 total)Are you sure your husband is not a clone of Jim? They souhttp://briannapopsickle.wrytestuff.com/swa794741-I-Love-Him-Just-Dont-Make-Me-Shop-With-Him.htm#nd EXACTLY alike. There could be one difference - Jim would not last all day!
He always wants to go with me and the first thing he wants to do is eat! Then, after that, he is pretty much disinterested in the shopping and we always end of going home within a couple of hours!
As always, your articles are so entertaining and funny!I'm thrilled when I can squeeze in a lunch out while shopping. Jim could shop with me. (But he'd have to last the day). :)Thanks Fran.
You did it again Brianna. Your humor is wonderful! Always a joy. Thank you for a tribute to the 'husband' shopper.You're welcome Nancy. I appreciate the great comment. Thank you.
Hi Brianna.
I've always said that we women are way more practical than men. You've just proven that we are more efficient as well. :)
This was a whole boat load of fun!
Oh, for the record, Bernd and I don't shop the same way either. But that's mostly because he never gets to do it. Take him to a grocery store and you almost can't get him out of it. Poor thing. I just want to get my stuff and go. He wants to look at EVERYTHING.
Hugs,
DianneMost women would kill to have Bernd for a husband. A man who loves to shop. Nice to hear from you Dianne.
LOL! High 5, Sister!!! We need to shop together!
One year when my older two boys were elementary age, I was fussing at them over dinner because it was nearly Christmas, I had finished all the Christmas shopping days before and the only thing left for them to do was buy ME something, which no one had done... my middle child looked at me with complete seriousness and said, "If only we could get the moms to shop for each other".He may have been on to something. At least then we'd probably get what we like. Very funny. I can only imagine the look on your face when he said it. :)
I have a good laugh, Brianna. Seems like most men were born similarly ( of course, as far as their structures etc the same ) Wish we understand them better when go shopping. My husband is quite like yours, it takes him rather long to really buy a iphone. I buy the things I want in just a few minutes.My husband's very practical when it comes to shopping. He feels good about saying no to something he might actually like to purchase. :) Thanks for reading and commenting Hilda.
This could be a one act play. People love reading you. You have got some special quality that sweeps up the reader. You are great.Awww go on, and on, and on. :) Thank you Christofer, you've made my day. (And most likely my week.)
Hilarious, Brianna, you capture the details so brilliantly. Every time I read one of your articles I can imagine it being an episode in a TV series - and I can imagine you acting in it, too!!There are moments in my life when I think it would make a great comedy as well. Like the moment I was 'shushed' at an outdoor concert. Who does that happen to? I'm happy to give you a laugh Jennifer, anytime. :)
Your humor is so infectious. Love this story as I do all of them. This one just grabbed my funny bone especially well. I'm still grinning. Great going!Happy to hear it gave you a chuckle. Thank you.
So sad that there's no Christ, in Christmas, just Gross National Product shopping.
I would rather take out my own appendix with a spoon and stick hot needles in my eyes than shop.
After all these years of marriage I still hold my wife's
hand when we are out, because if I let go, she shops!
Your prison with such gaily gilded prison bars is hardly a prison, but as you wait for the Governor's reprieve, shopping will have to suffice...
Much affection,
Paul
. . . and it will. :) Thanks Paul.
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