My husband and I are about to leave to go out for dinner. I’ve been busy getting myself changed, make-up applied and hair put in place. I haven’t paid any attention to what he was doing to get ready. Apparently nothing, because while I grab for my coat I glance over to see what he is wearing and that’s when I notice his dirty jeans, the t-shirt with a hole in it and I see he’s just finished lacing up his work boots with the dry mud chunks on the soles. That’s what he thinks is fine to wear to go out to dinner! And the really sad part is that where we were going he could almost get away with it. Almost. I know he just wanted to be comfortable and he had just worked about 14 hours straight but c’mon!
We were staying at a guest ranch outside of a small rural town (no, I’m not saying where) and the ranch restaurant closed at 7:30pm. We were the only two people in the whole place except for the staff. This is no high end-valet parking-maitre d’-famous chef-type of place by any stretch but still! I managed to talk him into different shoes but that was as far as I got. I didn’t really mind this time, considering the surroundings, but there are times when I am more determined to persuade him into his “nice” clothes. Nice equals no stains, holes, written words or pictures and definitely nothing dating back to the eighties or earlier. The “nice” section of his closet is pretty small but we’re working on it. I think he feels quite good when he relents finally and dresses up a bit.
I don’t want him to become metrosexual either. I don’t know what I’d do with a man that used more “products” than I do, took longer to get ready, shaved his side burns into thin lines that accentuated his jaw bone and stole my Vogue magazines. Ew! Ok, yes, if that man was David Beckham I actually do know what I’d do with him. But you know what I mean. I want my man rugged still but…well…clean…and not too prickly.
Trimming nose and ear hair – good. Plucking between your eyebrows so as to not have one giant uni-brow – good. Plucking or waxing your brows to shape them – not good. Shaving or waxing more than one, no I’ll say two, places – not good.
And man purses? If my guy ever started carrying one of those I’d…well after I stopped rolling on the floor laughing, I’d smack him with it!
Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for guys getting manicures and pedicures and looking after their skin and hair. (Way to go Barry! I can’t wait to see your new polish!) I’m definitely all for guys dressing in more than dirty jeans and t-shirts with holes. I’m looking for the happy medium. Not the cave man and not the narcissistic metrosexual either. What do ya say hon? Meet me half way?