Clifford and I went suit shopping. We walked into the store where a wannabe hipster, for all intents and purposes let’s call him Tool, waited on us rather reluctantly and quite terribly. Everything he offered up was ridiculous, just like his taste in clothing. Finally, at my prodding, we landed a sharp navy blue suit for the hubs to try on.
Clifford came out of the dressing room and as we analyzed the look and fit, Tool actually came back to check in. Clifford looked at me and asked, “What color shoes do you think?”
I said black. Then Tool chimes in, “Oh no. Brown with Navy blue for sure. But like a tan. I really like a light tan and navy blue together. Just really sets it off.” This coming from a man whose sickly-skinny brown suit pants were so short, his calves were sticking out along with his ankles sitting snug as bugs in their orange dress socks.
So it played out like this.
1. Me, standing behind Tool staring wide-eyed at Clifford, shaking my head wildly while mouthing the word NO repeatedly. (don’t judge. you’ve totally done that before.)
Clifford, me and Mr. Skinny Slacks
2. Tool, facing Clifford,staring at me in the giant mirror behind Cliff’s head. (so maybe I’m not as subtle as I thought?)
Perhaps Mr. Skinny Slacks misread my signals …? Yeah. Doubt it.
Felt bad till I learned Tool was an Ohio State alum.
Felt great when Clifford looked at Tool and said with total sincerity, “Wait. You mean Ohio State is a real school? I thought it was just for farmers.”
And that’s why you marry a South African, folks. No-take-backs.
