It was mid-April and as always I had spilled the beans and told my husband what I planned to buy him for his birthday in a few weeks. An Under Armour Moisture Wicking Golf Shirt.
“Yeah I like those. They have like these little holes but there aren’t enough holes to make me look like….” He said as he looked at me. I have a horrible habit of finishing people sentences so I quickly followed.
“You are wearing a net shirt.”
“Yeah. I don’t want to look like I am in West Side Story.” Let me stop to tell you my husband is a man’s man. He won’t wear pink, shop, hold my purse while I try on clothes or go to couple’s showers willingly although I did catch him watching “A Cinderella Story” one time. He has a façade of cool that must remain up at all times.
“The guys in West Side Story did not wear net shirts and they weren’t gay,” I retorted ever defensive of one of my favorite musicals.
“Jessica! They danced around all the time!”
“They were dancing to express their feelings but those guys were tough!”
“Are you kidding me? They just snapped and walked towards each other!”
“They did not. They actually fought and they would have popped a cap in your ass,” I exclaimed. It’s good to note, I am prosecutor and therefore know all about caps and caps being used to pop someone’s ass.
“No they wouldn’t. They would have just danced around me!”
“They were not gay. They had girlfriends! That’s the whole point of the story. Tony and Maria.”
“Sham marriages,” Chris said simply. Fuming with anger that he would minimize the balcony singing love of Tony and Maria, I finally responded the best way I knew how.
“You know what…. Bite me.”