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The Man in the Middle – Shopping with Mother

The Man in the Middle writes our new blog series. Musings from a middle-aged man living with his aged Mother and the Family.

Few men enjoy clothes shopping. Itโ€™s a utilitarian necessity, at best. Even fewer enjoy clothes shopping for their wives or girlfriends. Why play a game where you donโ€™t understand the rules?

I once had a male friend who enjoyed shopping and buying clothes withย women. It was mesmerising – like watching a trapeze artist on a hi-wire. His girlfriends thought he was wonderful. His commitment to clothes shopping with them was proof of his concern in them. I thought it was just a cunning ploy, like a fox pretending it was interested in the interior design of a chicken coop.

Mother insists on an actual shopping trip

 

I havenโ€™t seen him for thirty years, but am thinking about giving him a call. Mother wants me to take her clothes shopping and I wonder if he can give me some tips on how to handle this, or, better still, come along. ย I have tried to persuade her we donโ€™t need to go to the shop and could buy โ€˜on-lineโ€™. I have explained โ€˜free returnsโ€™, one of the great advances of human civilization, but she still insists on an actual shopping trip.

โ€˜The clothes on-line are never the same size or colour as those in the shop. Donโ€™t worry. You wonโ€™t need to help me in the changing room,โ€™ she says hitting one of my primal fears.

In the shop, things are going better than I expected. I say several encouraging things like โ€˜Man-made fabric looks good on youโ€™ and โ€˜the sale is over thereโ€™. I feel like my friend is guiding me, masterfully, like an ancient spirit.

There is laughter at the checkout. I turn to see an assistant talking very slowly and loudly to Mother.

โ€˜She doesnโ€™t understand me?โ€™ says the assistant.

โ€˜Whatโ€™s the matter?โ€™ I ask Mother.

She mouths words but makes no sound. She points to her ears and shakes her head.

โ€˜Has she been struck dumb?โ€™ asks the assistant.

Something is afoot

Thereโ€™s something about the doleful look in her eyes and her insistent tugging on my arm, like a child, which makes me suspicious. She doesnโ€™t do lame. Something is afoot.

โ€˜Alright Mother?โ€™ I say leaning down to her.

โ€˜Get me out of here,โ€™ she whispers into my ear.

In the car, I ask her whatโ€™s going on.

โ€˜I left my purse at home.โ€™ย  Sheโ€™s welling up, partly with anger. Being unable to pay is one of Motherโ€™s great humiliations. She dreams, repeatedly, of being caught in exactly the scenario sheโ€™s just been through.

โ€˜I had to take decisive action,โ€™ she says. I wonder if pretending to be deaf and dumb is decisive or excessive?

โ€˜Shall we go back for the clothes? I can pay.โ€™

โ€˜I can never go back there. Iโ€™m on CCTV now, forever recorded as an old idiot.โ€™

The trip is at an end. I wonder if my mate would have handled things differently and if his passion for shopping with women would have survived this sort of experience. I turn the car out of the car park and hear mother tell me to โ€˜slow downโ€™ even though weโ€™re only doing 10mph.

ยฉ The Man in the Middle

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