So here’s yet another way in which men differ from women…
We booked a cruise when we were back in Newfoundland. Nine days out of For Lauderdale heading to the Southern Caribbean, with stops in places like St. Lucia, St. Marteen and St. Thomas. The boat we're travelling on? The Miracle. And we leave on Christmas Eve (which also doubles as Cathy's 30th birthday). So you might see a theme, albeit an inadvertent one.
While booking the cruise I discovered I need a suit jacket for supper. I’ve never done a cruise before, so the logic of having one when traveling in Caribbean waters escapes me, but fine. I need a jacket.
I don’t wear suits if I can help it. Yes, this explains why I might have been single for many years since women like men in nice suits with ties. I do not have a nice suit. I can’t, for the life of me, do an acceptable knot in a tie. I’ve long considered anything that restricts the flow of blood to the brain, especially in men, to not be a useful fashion device.
But anyway, I was told I needed this otherwise they might not feed me on the cruise. So Cathy and I go to Moore’s to buy a suit jacket, figuring I would get just the one, and probably something lightweight, like linen.
A nice saleslady comes over and it turns out remembers me from two years ago when I was there to rent a tuxedo for the wedding. This is a good sign, I thought. So she takes me over to see a selection of jackets. After rejecting a couple, I finally settle on a nice charcoal black one. I would have thought something with a lighter colour would have been more appropriate, but it feels light, I like the material and it looks good on me. Done, I think.
“Now, I think we have a pair of pants that would go nice with that...”
Whoa. Wait a second. Pants? I have pants. But Cathy is gently nudging me towards the change room with a couple of pairs of pants to try on.
I walk out of the change room, and Cathy and the sales woman are conferring over a table. On the table are three different dress shirts with an assortment of ties.
At this point I accept I’m doomed. The change room wasn't so much for me to try on pants as for the wife and the saleslady to conspire without my presence. Clearly, the idea of walking out of the store with anything less than a new formal wardrobe is a futile. I’m just along for the ride at this point.
So, to clarify, I went in for a suit jacket. What I walked out with was a jacket, three dress shirts, three ties and one pair of dress pants and two pairs of Dockers. Oh, and the suit and dress pants had to be altered.
I lamented this later to OM at a party as I believed this was suit overkill. I can’t even wear much of it to work as attire up here is very casual. Wearing a suit to work, especially in February, tends to arouse suspicion. People think you’re up to no good if you’re wearing something that impractical when the weather is that unpleasant.
OM was her usual sympathetic self.
“Oh, stop whining. You needed a new suit, you got a new suit.”
“But I didn’t need that much suit. I just need a jacket,” I said.
“Don’t be silly. You needed more than a jacket. You can’t just get a jacket,” she said.
“I didn’t know that.”
“Of course you didn’t know that. But Cathy did.”
I turned to Cathy. “You knew?”
“Well, yeah,” she said.
“And you didn’t feel like sharing that information with me?”
“I didn’t want to stress you out. It was just easier this way.”
Women are devious creatures. Their minds work in mysterious ways.
But now I have an outfit. Which, hopefully, I will wear one day.