Whilst out shopping for pink knee socks last week I walked past a bench upon which sat a young man, shoulders hunched, eyes closed. He looked tired and hungry, and at his feet lay a pile of carrier bags. I swear I heard him make a noise like a kitten mewing for its momma, but he wasn't homeless, he was in TopShop. All over the country, men are being forced into telling their girlfriends that she's not fat (even if she is) when he should be out playing golf with his dad or watching football with his mates. Is it because a) he went out in the week and got so drunk that his trousers fell off and he landed on top of a lady whose skirt had fallen off and to steady himself he put his hand on her boobs or b) the relationship works on some kind of quasi-Nazi trade-off ritual where he has to do crap things like sit outside changing rooms in Marks and Spencer while she tries on 87 pairs of black trousers which all look the same, because they are, and expects him to tell the difference, or even care.
Although I am not a man, I think like one when it comes to shopping. If I want some new stilettos I ask for the pair I like in my size, stick a foot in one, if it hurts I go home without them and if it doesn't, I say 'I'll have these'. It takes about three minutes, and that includes the bit where they keep swiping my credit card and questioning my signature because it's, uh, not my credit card. Only kidding.
But for the love of God, why do women make men come shopping with them? Why? I stood next to a couple the other day in a fancy shoe emporium, and the conversation went like this:
Him: 'If you like them, why don't you just buy them?'
Her: 'I do like them, but they won't go with these jeans, only the other ones.'
Him: 'What other ones? You've got 11 pairs of jeans.'
Her: 'Maybe I should get a different pair. Or these and another pair?'
Him: 'Of what? Jeans or shoes?'
Her: 'Shoes! Are you listening to me?'
And then I interjected with:
Me: 'No he's not. It doesn't matter to him, because it's not important, and his ears stopped working hours ago. Just buy the bloody shoes or don't before I kill you or he kills you and then we both kill ourselves. Please.'
And with that they both looked a bit surprised, and she put the shoes back, and they left.
It's time men acted like men and told their girlfriends to shove it, just on certain subjects. And if they don't like it, come round to mine where you can watch the football, touch my boobs, drink beer and shout at the television all afternoon. And the trade-off? Just bring the crisps.
