A long time ago, Casey and I had an argument about my style. She probably wanted to have that argument on our first date. I showed up at her apartment dressed in jeans, a flannel button up shirt, and sandals. The worst part of what I wore on that first date was that I wore socks under the sandals.
After our third or fourth date, when we decided to get married, Casey begged me to change my style. She didn’t want me asking her to marry me while wearing the same black dress pants, black shoes, black belt, white shirt, and tie that I likely purchased from Wal-Mart. At the very minimum she wanted me to buy a black shirt and a yellow tie for that special occasion.
I did what she said and that was really the start of my accepting the fact that Casey was a much better judge of style than me. I fought it as long as I could, but little by little Casey chipped away at the things I wore. I’ve never worn socks with sandals since that first date, and Casey chooses ALL of my work clothes now. She picks out the ties and she picks out the shirts. When she brings them home from the store she’ll tell me which shirts go with which ties and I follow her rules.
My weekend and everyday clothes, well, that’s still mostly me.
I learned several years ago when I was just a law clerk running errands to the court that my wife knew what she was talking about. The ladies at the courthouse constantly made remarks about my shirts and ties. It doesn’t matter how many times I go to the courthouse with that orange shirt and brownish-orangish tie, those ladies will comment on them every. single. time.
The last three shirts and ties Casey picked out for me were all a shade of purple. One purple shirt is a similar type of color that can be found on Easter eggs. The other two purple shirts are much fancier, and one is a deep shade of purple and the other is almost a pinkish color. Each tie Casey bought for the three shirts are similar in color to each of their respective assigned shirt.
I wore my pinkish/purple shirt to work the other day and the office receptionist asked if she could take my picture for her son. Her son goes to the same school as Addie, but he’s a year younger. His dad is some kind of supervisor at a parts manufacturing plant. The receptionist explained that her son had recently asked if he could have a purple shirt. I don’t know if it had some design on it, or if he just likes the color purple, but it was what he wanted.
The receptionist got her son the purple shirt and he wore it to school. When he got home from school that day, he told his mom that the kids at school made fun of him for wearing a purple shirt. She didn’t know if that meant her son wasn’t going to wear the purple shirt again, but she thought taking a picture of me and showing her son that it’s okay for men to wear purple was a good idea.
I didn’t know what to say. The reason I wear purple is because my wife chooses my clothes. The reason I let my wife choose my clothes is because the clothes she chooses gets comments from the ladies. I couldn’t tell the receptionist to tell her son that guys who wear purple get the ladies.
Then I started to think about it and I realized I’m a lot like her son at school. When I go to the gym and I change into one of my purple shirts, the guys at the gym make fun of me. Some of them do it right to my face in a joking-like manner, and others do it thinking I can’t hear what they’re saying. I’ve never cared what any guy at the gym thinks about my shirts, because, well, I just don’t. But it makes me wonder if kids ever really grow up.
Do kids who bully and mock other people really ever stop bullying and mocking other people?
What do you think?
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