Honey, You Need a Man Purse!

Recently, when my husband loaded me down with all his "stuff" before we headed out for dinner, I knew we had to have the dreaded talk. It is time for him to think about a man purse. I will tell him at our next dinner out, over lots wine of course - if Tom Brady did it - you could do it, too, honey.

Killing Me Slowly With His "Stuff"

As of late, I adopted Roberta Flack's "Killing Me Softly with His Song" as my "going out with my husband" theme song, but I had to change the words a little. As we were heading out the door that night, my husband asked, "Can you put my cell phone in your purse?" My response was, "Sure," and I started for the door.

I took two steps and heard, "Oh, I need my glasses to read the menu - can you put my glasses in your purse?" he asked politely. Once again, I said, "Sure." Another two steps toward the door and I heard him babble something. I turned and asked, "What?" "We have a gift certificate, you should put this in your purse," he said proudly. Rather brusquely, I snatched the gift certificate from him and shoved it in my purse.

Almost to the door now and only seconds from actually making it out of the house, my husband muttered, "I better bring Pepcid® babe, can you put this in your purse?" Without turning around to look at him and holding my breath at that point, I thrust my hand out for the Pepcid.® Into my hand, the man plopped, an economy size bottle of antacids.

Now he was grating on my nerves like an ice skate blade on rough pavement. Glaring at him I asked, "Seriously, do you need to bring a bottle of antacids the size of an air tank to a restaurant that is ten minutes from this house?" "You need to suck up the indigestion for a lousy ten minutes!" Ugh!

"Just put the damn things in your purse and let's get going," he gruffly snapped, as if I were the one holding us up! Inundated with sadness, I realized the moment had come. My Harley-riding, F-350-driving, beer-drinking, real-men-don't-wear-underwear-thinking, air-tank-size-antacid-carrying husband, was ready for a man purse. It was a new chapter in our life. Good grief!

Man Purse Changes Everything

Does the idea of my husband having his own man purse alter the way I see him? You bet it does! That night, as I sipped my white Merlot and he glugged his manly beer, my mind flashed to scenes of our life with his man purse.

Sitting in that cozy booth, I could hear my husband chatting in the distance about our business, but I was picturing him forgetting his man purse in the shopping cart at Wal-Mart. I heard him say we had a ton of paperwork to catch up, yet I saw him loading up the man purse, with food from the buffet at Foxwoods.

"Looking forward to the 4^th of July break," echoed past my ears, but my eyes were burning with images of my husband asking our grandsons to hold his man purse while he used the rest room at one of their school functions.

In a troubling mind flash, I saw him trying to cram his man purse, under the seat in the airplane, on our trip to the Bahamas in February. I clearly heard unpleasant profanity when it would not fit. He said, "Did you get those proposals finished today?" I heard; "Babe, does this man purse go with these motorcycle boots?"

After that last thought, I decided to bench the man purse talk until the next time we went out. Even though I realized a man purse is inescapable at this point, I needed more wine to get through the delicate discussion and it was after all, a work night. It will have to wait. Besides, it is just too disturbing!

Despite my husband's rough and tough persona, I believe he will come to appreciate the many advantages of sporting a man purse. Who knows, he might just change his cave dweller (politically correct) philosophy about wearing underwear as well!

Source: A troubled wife!