Shopping, Categorically Speaking

Guys, I'm wrong.

I apologize for this, but for the sake of clarity, I do have to admit that when it comes to shopping, women have it right.

Definitively speaking, of course.

I say this, because I believe there is a disconnect between they way men understand this word, and how women interpret it.

How many guys (are even reading this?) think that to 'go shopping' means literally to 'go to a shop and buy something?' Go ahead. Raise your hands.

You're wrong (but you're used to it by now).

Don't be discouraged. As a species, we're all entirely wrong. It's like when all the tadpoles in the primordial soup of life suddenly decided to grow legs and climb up out of the water and start on the first rung of that long ladder that lead to becoming homo sapiens. Somewhere along the line it occurred to us male tadpoles that it was a fine idea, in and of itself, but it could be better improved upon by kicking back for a few millenia and having the amphibian-equivalent of a 6 pack.

That's why we're behind the women on this, guys (As I'm sure you're reminded of this quite often, too). Because we're not as advanced as women when it comes to language. So if my neighbor Biff down the street calls me up and says 'Hey, want to go shopping?' I (strongly suspect he's gay) am assuming that there is something specific he wants to go and purchase. Usually something distinctly male, like a chainsaw or new hunting rifle. To us, that phrase is a well-understood male code: men do not 'shop', they go and buy (and then catch hell for it later at home).

This, then, is where the confusion comes in. Because when our wives or other significant women in our lives ask us if we want to go shopping, we're thinking of shopping in 'Biff-terms': that is to say, going out and buying something specific.

We're wrong (like that's any surprise).

My wife, Salome, is a Shopper (note the uppercase). She has a gift. And when I say 'gift', I mean she can take what would be a five minute in-and-out purchase and turn it into an hour long exploration of possibilities. To her, 'shopping' is not merely the purchase of an item, it is the springboard to a type of Nirvana that can only be induced by consumerism and the plethora of choices. I respect her for this, feeling as I often do like the typical Neanderthal trailing behind her going 'Meat... me want meat...' while she picks over cuts of sirloin, inspecting the date and cut, setting it down because the T-bone is on sale, picks up that package and inspects from beneath to make sure that it's properly sealed, and then turns to me and says 'How about chicken instead?' She'll then proceed to the poultry aisle to look for the best possible deal on chicken breasts, but will notice along the way that chicken thighs are looking fresh. It is then she will turn to me and says 'Breast? Or Thighs?' (yeah, yeah, insert sexual joke here), prompting me to make a choice.

It's great that she tries to include me in this. Truly. It's soothing to the ego, to be the final arbiter of the damned cut of meat that isn't even of the same species that I was thinking originally. But invariably, whatever I opt for, she will scrunch up her face and say 'Really?'. This is both a verbal and non-verbal cue that I am wrong and should immediately suggest the other. Quickly, I do. And I am the hero, as she puts down the package she didn't want and gives me a loving look. She will subsequently put the desired one in the grocery cart and wheel around, walk 10 paces, suddenly stop and say 'You know, I think I really want sirloin after all.'

Kind of solves the mystery of why Neanderthals carried clubs, doesn't it?

But they have it right. The dictionary backs them up on this, loathe as I am to admit it: as a verb, to shop means: 'to visit shops and stores for purchasing or examining goods.' In other words, all those times your wife went shopping, was gone for hours, and you were worried that she was actually having an affair (or you went and took a nap, fully taking advantage of your sudden good fortune), and this notion was further bolstered by the fact that when she returned she had purchased nothing, chances are she just went to a store- or a few hundred of them- and only examined rather than purchased goods.

So this afternoon, as we were departing Home Depot, having spent 30 minutes in there in order to purchase 4 different kinds of lightbulbs (it would have only been three, but Salome found some really curly ones she liked and spent a few minutes debating about whether to buy them-), we drove slowly through the parking lot. There, an older pedestrian couple started to cross our path in the crosswalk. Salome slowed politely for them (Yes, Salome does the driving. I don't want to get into it. Just... trust me, guys, it's easier). The man started to move and then stopped, realizing his better half wasn't beside him. He stopped, turned, and there she was, her back to him, as she looked at a display of plants set up in the parking lot of Home Depot. The man gave a disgusted wave at us, letting us know he wasn't going to be crossing any time soon, so we might as well move on.

You know just what his wife had said to him earlier that day, don't you?

'Honey, do you want to go shopping?'