Which Kind do You Have?


I’m not a very talkative person. I don’t mind “awkward” silence. It’s only awkward when you make it, but to me it’s just a time to think or observe. I’m not sure how much is true about the following statement, because I was too young to remember, but when I was little my parents were worried because I didn’t talk much. My aunt, on the other hand, wasn’t worried in the slightest. She claimed I didn’t have to talk. I had two older sisters and a caring mother who would get whatever it was I was pointing at. That was my way of communication. I had all the power in my tiny, baby index finger. I still find myself doing that sometimes, so my apologies if I’ve offended you by doing so. Some old habits never really wear off.

What I’m lacking in communication, I make up for in observance; I’m always observing my environment. I don’t mean it in the sense of paranoia, like where’s the closest exit to run to in case there’s a crazy-man walking in the door right now. I’m just observing what’s around me: architecture, people, things that would make a unique photo, how you have a booger in your nose, but don’t want to bring it up. Just kidding, I’d let you know. I just like making mental notes on things, so I can eventually talk your ear off via blogging.

This past weekend my girlfriend and I went shopping at some outlets near our apartment. Shopping was something I used to enjoy. Having those two sisters who were at my beck and call when I was little meant a lot of days spent shopping, and it kinda wore off on me. I was never opposed to hopping in the mom-van for an afternoon spent at the mall. I think it was because there were stores I actually shopped at in the mall back then. Nowadays I do a majority of my shopping online, because there aren’t many brands I wear which have physical stores, so my feelings towards shopping have been tainted.

While I was walking with my girlfriend around racks and tables of clothes, I began my coping mechanism: observing. What was I observing you ask? I was observing the coping mechanisms of other guys who were out shopping with their significant other. There were many different types of male species: black, white, Spanish, Asian, tall, short, skinny, fat, thugs, red necks, classy guys, meatheads, blah blah blah. You name it, that guy was there. After many hours of deductive reasoning and late nights of going over my research, I’ve come to realization there are three types of guys who shop with their significant others, and I would like to share them with you.

The Perfect Man

Women dream of the perfect man; typically referred to as those tall, dark, and handsome fellas. What makes them perfect varies from girl to girl. One girl may think the perfect man is the one who brings home the money, buys her whatever she wants, takes her to exotic places, does all these expensive things, because love = money. Other women think the perfect man is someone who wears Ed Hardy, works out 75% of the day, has enough grease in his hair to stop your breaks from squeaking, and lives by the infamous phrase “GTL”. Whatever man is perfect in your eyes is fine with me. I won’t judge what gets you going.

When it comes to shopping though, the perfect man is not described by the clothes he wears, or how much gel is in his hair. This man is described by how well he handles shopping. He’s the man who will hold all of the clothes his significant other wants to try on. He’ll go and get a dressing room ready while his significant other looks for the one last thing that will make that outfit exquisite. Need a different size in those pants? He’ll take off and get you that size like he’s rounding third base, headed home to score the winning run.

He’ll also provide honest feedback, because honesty is key in a relationship, and he lives by that. “I love the way that shirt brings out your eyes!” “Those pants fit you extremely well!” “I really like what you’re doing with that top/bottom combo; it fits you to the T” are things he’ll usually say. If he doesn’t really like something she’s picked out, he’ll let her know in a loving way: “Babe, I think we could find something a little better to compliment your new hair style.”

This guy is Dreamer McDreamerton, for sure.

The “You’re on Your Own” Man

Ever walk into a store and see three guys standing at the entrance, looking as helpless as Little Orphan Annie? Yeah, those are the “you’re on your own” men I’m talking about. These guys don’t even bother with shopping. Once they walk through the doors, it’s like they walked into Spider Man’s web: there’s no way you’re getting out of that. They were probably dragged away from their 65-inch TV’s right as tipoff started, dreading Monday morning’s water-cooler talk. They know Steve’s going to brag about how he witnessed the craziest ending in sports history and laughs as he reminds you of how you were stuck shopping. Shut the hell up, Steve. You have a booger in your nose, and I’m not going to tell you about it.

If they aren’t dragged away from something they’d rather do, sometimes these men have every intention of being that perfect man mentioned before. They gave themselves the mirror pep talk while getting ready that morning – “Okay, man, you can do this. It’s only going to take 30-minutes, 45 at most. You’ll be in and out of there as fast as that time she told you she was only 17.” They walk into those stores scoffing at the guys sitting by the doors, telling his girlfriend how those aren’t “real men” under his breath. 45-minutes turns into an hour, and she still hasn’t tried on her cart full of clothes. Chalk another one up for the store. This guy’s toast. Off he goes to the front of the store, where those guys he was mocking earlier are there welcoming him with open arms, because guys don’t hold grudges.

He, too, may be someone’s Dreamer McDreamerton.

The Hybrid Man

If “the perfect man” and the “‘you’re on your own’ man” had a baby, voila, you have yourself the hybrid man. This guy most likely won’t offer valuable advice about what you picked out, but he sure as hell won’t leave you alone as he sits at the entrance. He’ll walk with you through the aisles of clothes and shoes, but the aura he gives off won’t be good. He usually looks like Simba following Mufasa, after he was caught exploring the shadow lands. You know, sulking like he knows what he did was wrong and disobedient, but he’s man enough to accept his fate.

He’s often times one step away from being “the perfect man”, but the genes he got from the “‘you’re on your own’ man” prevent him from taking that step. “Honey, what do you think of this shirt?” “It’s nice.” “Babe, what do you think of these pants?” “They’re blue.” “Sweetie, do you like these shoes?” “Sure.”  He’ll give you some feedback, but it’s as useless as carrying your iPhone around when you’ve gone over your monthly data. The significant other would probably benefit more from her man sitting by the entrance, but appreciates the effort and is still happy they’re spending time together.

Although he provides the short, useless feedback often obtained from the “‘you’re on your own’ man”, he does have qualities of “the perfect man” as well. While by your side, making it obvious he’s not 100% interested in the current situation, he usually copes by joking around about certain clothes. He’ll be the one who picks up a shirt and says, “Why would someone even wear this?” as a lady walks by wearing that exact shirt, leaving you two giggling like school girls. Or, he’ll put on a hat and ask his girlfriend what she thinks of it, then act as serious as possible about buying it. He tries to make light of the poor situation he’s in, but he puts your thoughts first.

He’s the real-life Dreamer McDreamerton.

In conclusion, I think it’s better off I keep my talking to a minimum and keep observing life. You can’t get in trouble for not saying something. Well, let’s just say you can’t get in as much trouble, because if you don’t say anything, then you’ll get in trouble for not saying anything. It’s a weird world we live in.