Funny Guy Friday... Shopping for Cheryl

    Funny Guy Friday is written each week by my husband Mark. So... I married a funny guy...
    Matthew and I just got home from a night out Christmas shopping for my beautiful wife. Two things are certain... the first is that Cheryl is so nice that no matter what you buy her, she will love it. The second is that she is impossible to shop for. Now these two certainties may seem a bit inconsistent, but I assure you, they are not.
    Like any other husband, I try to look for clues as to what she may want or need. Sometimes this calls for a subtle approach. First thing I try to do is listen to the things she says when we are out shopping for other people. For instance, she recently had a new closet built in our bedroom. While in Target, she saw something that prompted her to say that I could buy her something to go in her closet. Sweet, I can buy her some hangers and we are good to go!
    I thought that hangers was an odd request so I asked her Did you see some hangers? 
    She laughed at my question, despite the fact that I was not joking. Then it dawned on me that she must be talking about some clothes. Then I fake laughed. You know the laugh that you do when you want to save face when someone laughs at your serious, but obviously stupid question. Hee hee, of course not.  So do you want a new dress or an outfit?  
    No, I need something for my underthings.
    Now I was completely perplexed.
    I saw some cute storage baskets that I can put my unmentionables in and then put the baskets in the closet.  
    Okay, not the greatest gift in the world but practical I suppose. I made a mental note of the baskets for a later date. But as usual, Cheryl giveth, and then Cheryl taketh away.
    Of course, I would not want those baskets... I would want shabby chic!
    Is there any male alive that would know what shabby chic is? I dare say, if there is, he would not admit it. Then she tried to explain it to me. My eyes glazed over and I was back to square one.
    Once the subtle approach fails, I go to the less subtle approach... I ask, what do you want for Christmas?... Tell me.  Tell me now!
    You know what I like, just buy me something pretty.
    This, of course, means absolutely nothing to me, but it is with this bit of information that Matthew and I set out on our shopping expedition.
     Matthew and I have similar shopping strategies. We get settled in the car and ask each other, Where are we going to eat? Once we have the menu established, we map out our strategy.
     Our first stop was Dick's Sporting Goods. Matthew correctly pointed out that there is nothing in that store that mom wants. This was true, but it accomplished two goals... it got us closer to Smoothie King and closer to a store that surely had the perfect gift for Cheryl.
     After predictably striking out at Dick's, we headed over to Smoothie King and "the other store."
We each got a delicious strawberry/banana/papaya smoothie. We sipped our little treat while chatting it up with a very pretty Ravens cheerleader we met. We were then off to buy our first gift of the night. Unfortunately, we may have chatted it up a bit too much with the pretty cheerleader because when we got to the store, it was closed. Ninety minutes in and not a single gift.
     Off to the mall.
     First things first, Matthew and I agreed to grab a bite at Chipotle...but we agreed that this would be a victory meal after we found a few things for Cheryl. We started at one end of the mall, and we were not going to stop until we found the perfect gift. In the middle of our lap around the mall, it occurred to me that not only were there very few stores that have gifts for Cheryl, there are very few stores that Cheryl would ever step foot in. They either smell a thousand smells, which makes her sick to her stomach, or they lack the virtue of modesty which... makes her sick to her stomach.
    [I think a side bar is needed at this time. When I write things like lacks the virtue of modesty, you know that I have been married to Cheryl for a long time. As you read on, you will also realize that despite our long marriage, I may be a bit more tolerant when it comes to the lack of the virtue of modesty.]
    There is actually one particular store where young men stand half-naked in the doorway greeting guests. I thought that was something that you only saw on a sitcom mocking these kind of hipster stores. The sight of the naked boys prompted Matthew to recall a conversation that he had with his cousin, who pointed out that it is ironic that they stand outside the store half-naked in hopes of selling clothes.
     Personally, I was thinking that if these guys get half-naked outside of their store, we should stroll on over to Victoria's Secret to see if their employees use a similar strategy to peddle their unmentionables, er uh, goods. Since I was with my twelve-year-old son, I could not actually make this suggestion. Even if I had, he would not have heard me because he had taken off in a full out sprint in the direction of Victoria's Secret. That's my boy. Merry Christmas, son.
    Alas, we did not find a single gift for Cheryl, but all was not lost because we still had Chipotle waiting for us. Imagine our disappointment when the restaurant closed two minutes before our arrival. The night would have been a total disaster if not for the food court. We headed over to the Kabob Store and ordered us up a Gyro to go. It was a tasty finish to a very disappointing night of shopping,
    We headed home, empty-handed, albeit with full tummies. As I lay in bed lamenting the night's results, Matthew came in our room and thanked me for a fun night. I guess we did meet a pretty cheerleader. We did pass Victoria's Secret. We did get some yummy smoothies and a delicious Gyro. Why, it wasn't a wasted night at all. My son and I had a great time.
    Also, and please don't tell Cheryl this but... I also got some great ideas for gifts for her... gift certificates to Smoothie King and the Kabob Store. She can take Matthew.
    These are gifts that I am certain that she will love.