(Even as I write this, I know the minute I post it I am going to get in trouble with my husband. He is always telling me that some conversations should just stay private between the two of us, and I’m pretty sure that he’ll think this is one of them. But I can’t help it.)
This afternoon on my lunch break I walked up to J Crew to take a look around. As I was standing in line with my shiny new pair of khaki pants and pastel argyle belt to match, I started flipping through a pile of men’s boxer shorts that were in a bin next to the cash register. I found the funniest pair of bright yellow shorts with little, bity dachunds dogs on them, and the dachunds were wearing hot dog buns! They were adorable.
I contemplated getting a pair for Chris but then I realized if I bought him a pair he would know I had been at J Crew and he would roll his eyes and make some comment about my shopping habits (which, for the record, are extreme but are nothing compared to his Apple addiction…). I made a mental note, instead, to just tell him about them when I got home.
So tonight over dinner I describe these incredibly cute boxer shorts to him and wait for him to burst out laughing with me. Every chance I get I buy him funny boxers – its sort of our (weird) thing. He’s got some with hammers and nails, some with ants, some with grills and hamburgers, some with giant pumpkins…and the list goes on. But instead of sharing in my giggling, he just laid down his fork and turned to me all serious-like.
“Yeah, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about my boxers,” he said.
Boy, that’s a line you don’t hear from your husband very often.
“I’ve been thinking it might be time for me to get some different boxers.”
“Oh,” I say. “I wish I had known you needed new ones because I totally would have gotten these for you!”
“No,” he says, searching for the right words. “I think its time I had more, you know, grown up boxers.”
I freeze. Because I don’t know what to say and because I am quite certain that if I heard him correctly then I might be about to wet my pants with laughter.
“You mean, like, big boy boxers?” I ask, hardly surpressing a giggle.
“Well, you know, sometimes people can see boxers when you bend over or something, and I just don’t think people at my new job need to see dauschunds dressed as hot dogs.”
At this point, I’m laughing so hard that I can’t even sit up in my seat. Is he not just the most adorable thing in the entire world?
So, I kiss him and say, “Okay, sweetie. You’re right. You’ve got a big boy job, so maybe its time you had some big boy boxers.”