By Dave MacNeil
As we fritter away the care-free days of summer, it can sometimes be easy to forget that time of year that many men dread most. It’s the five-month stretch that I like to call “The Gift Gauntlet.”
For me, it starts with my wife’s birthday in mid-December and ends in mid-May with Mother’s Day. In between, of course, there’s Christmas, Valentine’s Day and Easter.
I learned very early on there’s no easy out when it comes time to shop for your wife. Many men mess around on the periphery of shopping, frequenting flower shops, making dinner reservations, going to candy stores and, in their most desperate moments, playing the dinner-and-a-movie card.
But the simple fact they can’t avoid, no matter how hard they try, is that none of these efforts are going to impress.
Flowers are not the gift. The candy is not the gift. The dinner is not the gift. Not even the movie can be considered the gift.
Somewhere in your well-meaning – yet somehow half-hearted – attempt to exhibit your undying devotion should be a gift. You know, something which requires you to go to the mall, shuffle blindly through a store and emerge with something in a bag.
The flowers, the candy, the movie, the dinner – none of these are readily returnable. Present your find in the most expensive wrapping paper – throw on a $3 bow if you’re so inclined – but be sure there’s a corresponding receipt tucked away in your wallet. She’s going to ask for it!
It’s just her way of saying, “Nice try bozo, but I think I’ll take this back for something I like.”
If you spend enough years together, your significant other will find ways to adapt. My wife and I could be shopping in January, and she’ll hand me something. “You can put that in my stocking,” she’ll instruct.
When she first started employing this tactic, I must admit that I was a little insulted. I swiftly returned the item to the shelf and insisted that I can do my own shopping. And when I say I put it back on the shelf, I mean I put it in the shopping cart. And when I say I insisted that I can do my own shopping, I didn’t exactly say that out loud.
We have both come to know my limitations in this regard, and we’re adapting to them. And that’s a diplomatic way of saying I’ve given up on any pretense that I’m any good at shopping, and she’s given up hope that she’ll ever change me.
The only time I get to shop by myself is when the level of household necessities like cat litter and toilet paper reaches such a critical level that a trip to Costco is required just to maintain operational readiness. I attack the store with military precision. List in hand, I navigate the aisles in a methodical manner, starting with the bulkier items in the far corners of the store first and working my way back towards the checkouts.
Like a racehorse fitted with blinders, I ignore the on-sale five-piece pickle ball set that almost demands a new hobby. I’m a man on a mission, giddy with the prospect of getting in and out in under 10 minutes.
In the interests of science, I’ve conducted some research into this matter, and my findings make it clear that my solo Costco missions hold the key to the difference between men and women when they go shopping.
In pre-historic times, all humans lived as “hunter-gatherers.” The men hunted for prey, while the women browsed the fields, gathering wild plants, nuts and berries. It’s pretty easy to draw the parallels with today’s shopping habits.
If I discover a hole in my running shoes, my thought process is incredibly similar to that of pre-historic man. While I’m locating my credit card, pre-historic man is rummaging around the cave for his spear. As I Google up the Saucony website, he is heading for the vast plains where the wild animals roam. A couple of quick clicks of the mouse, and my conundrum is addressed. One precise thrust of his spear and his shopping trip is done and dusted as well.
It was interesting to discover during my research that 80 to 90 per cent of the food for the “hunter-gatherer” group was supplied by the women. This is not unlike present times, as even men must concede that, for all this dithering in stores, life in the average household would grind to a halt if not for the contributions of the woman.
So, ladies, it’s not really our fault if we suck at shopping. It’s been this way for hundreds of thousands of years, and you can’t mess with evolution. It’s a slow process.