Left tied to a lamppost

It’s a well-known proven scientific fact that the male brain is hard-wired to be shown only 20 outfits and asked what it thinks before it switches off. One score of combined dresses, skirts, shoes, necklaces and then that’s it, it downs tools and sets off in search of gadgets or coffee, whichever is nearest. And I think my brain has slightly less will-power than that.

Today’s expedition into the retail world involved dress-shopping with the lovely Sarah for an upcoming wedding invite. My brain was struggling by the time I was shown the one. ‘The one’, for the females amongst you, is the one that comes along after at least two dozen others have been discarded, and is almost always found in close proximity to the first outfit shown to the male partner.

It was a lovely dress, and I battled my brain-fade to make all the best reassuring noises. The noises were genuine and sincere, but it was hard work because at least 80% of my brain-juice was being used to try and work out how to stand in the lingerie department of a big store. It’s like being a dog left tied to a lamppost whilst its owner is in the shop, except this neighbourhood is decorated top-to-toe in ladies unspeakables. It really was a big store. With many, many changing rooms. All of which had been closed in favour of making weary men-folk, hunter gathers tired from excessive hunting without very much gathering, feel very uncomfortable by being surrounded by every bra and knicker set, frilly or otherwise. A brief eyes-up from the briefs to the newly tried-on dress and quickly back down is not a negative reaction to the outfit in question. It’s just a self-preservation thing, trying not to make eye-contact with the red, purple, lacy, satin, underwired predators who, without warning, can quickly sap all feelings of masculinity.

They do it on purpose those pesky, I note female, shop assistants. Is it a sport which makes the day go quicker?

It was a nice dress though. Hunted, but not gathered.

PS I have a new photoblog – dury.aminus3.com