Nice Pants

Why is it that when I walk into the Gap, I can never tell if I'm in the men's section or the women's section. Honestly, I'll be looking at some really nice shirts, and Mark will come up behind me and tell me,
"You're in the women's department."
"I know, I was just looking at the material.", I lie.
It used to be that the dead give away for the women's clothing section were the zippers on the side of the pants, and the frilly shirts. Now the ladies have the zippers in front, and the guys shirts are as, or more colorful than the blouses over on the other side of the store.

Saturday Mark helped me go clothes shopping. I hate shopping for clothes. It just points out how much fatter I am as I move up a waist size every year, and besides, I have no idea whatsoever what the hell is in style for old farts like me. I don't want to look like some desperate old fool trying to be young, yet I don't want to be pegged as 'that old guy over there'. It's a delicate balance, especially in a gay bar. One pair of banana yellow, polyester slacks, and you are relegated to the wrinkle room (slang for a gay bar old men hang out in).

My first requirement when shopping for clothing is that it fits me comfortably, while Mark is all about style. One of the things we went shopping for was some underwear. I was down to five pair, three if you don't count the ones with holes, and I was starting to cheat on the sixth day. So here I was at the Gap watching as Mark pranced towards me holding packages of what looked like women's panties in one hand, and some boxer shorts in the other hand. The emo boy, girlie underpants were out immediately, and as for the boxer shorts, I don't do Gap boxers. As I explained to Mark, I have purchased boxers at the Gap before, and I have found that the barn door construction is poorly executed. The cow is constantly getting out, and I end up having to adjust things all the time. I need a barn door with positive closure. It keeps people from thinking your some kind of pervert.