It was Husband’s birthday last week. He turned 35. Which is crazy because when we got married he was five years younger than me and I’m only turning 29 this year.
(Incidentally, I’m pretty sure the proper grammar there is “younger than I” but that just sounds plain weird so I’m not typing that.)
My husband is to jackets what Imelda is to shoes. I swear, we have closets upon closets of men’s jacket. I’d take a picture but that’s just handing over evidence for when you decide to get all judgey on me and call Hoarders.
But, here’s the thing. He doesn’t actually like any of them. They’re all either too short, or too tight, too hot or too bulky. They have a logo he hates or a (nearly invisible) stain on the chest. They collect too much dog hair or they aren’t the right color to wear with his suit pants. I could go on.
Sometime early this winter, he decided a North Face fleece was going to be the answer to our jacket woes. A black one. Zip front. Gotcha.
We talked about it.
And talked about it.
I forgot all about the damn jacket which is absurd because seriously we bemoan the lack of a jacket frequently.
His birthday last week. Almost spring. Not a single black fleece North Face to be found in the greater Boston area.
So, I went to a local uppity retailer and looked around and found what I thought would be a really good alternative. A grey (black wasn’t in stock but could be ordered), little bit puffy Patagonia. Light-weight but warm.
I know, I know. That’s a lot for a jacket. I think I was trying to compensate for the fact that I forgot all about it in December. But, I truly believed this was finally going to be the jacket.
Do you think it was the jacket?
He didn’t like it.
And he really didn’t like the price.
I went on an on about how he deserved that price. That he clearly needed a jacket he would love. That he was so good about my gifts that he should have a nice thing, too. That he earned that gift with all his hard work and support of his loving family.
(Plus, I’m really pushing for a
40th 29th birthday party this summer.)
He looked at me and with a straight face said…
“Ok. If you want to spend $179 on me, return the jacket, go to Victoria’s Secret and spend $179 on some nice stuff for you.”
Hahahahahaha! I laughed. Funny guy, that husband of mine.
“No way. You are so not serious.”
“Yes, I am. Go spend it on yourself. But spend it there.”
A few days passed.
“Did you go shopping yet?”
“You’ve lost your mind. You do not want me to go do that.”
But, I think he’s completely serious.
Men are weird, man.
Does Vicky sell a Snuggie?