Which shirt are you wearing?

Most men will agree that a relationship with any of the female gender involves a lot of questions.
Not a day goes by that Ol’ Dutch does not feel like he is in a round of reverse “Jeopardy.” In this game instead of Alex Trebeck reading the answer, he reads the question in a lightning fire round. And instead of Alex providing the answers, it’s actually Miss Trixie using her mouth like a machine gun firing off questions left and right.
The questions are not so bad, I guess, but having the right answer is paramount to what they call “harmonious bliss” and being rewarded by what is known as silence.
You don’t have to be around partners of the female persuasion very long to realize that most of their time is spent asking questions to lead a man to the “correct” answer.
A friend I know left his underwear in the middle of the floor and his wife pointed at the offending drawers asking, “are those yours?” To which he quickly responded, “Well I hope so or I have a few questions of my own.”
That question was, as all men know, really a directive to him to pick up the offending garment and put it where it belongs.
In our situation, I think it’s more fun for Trixie to ask questions and see if Ol’ Dutch slips up somewhere or maybe she is testing my cognitive ability to make sure I am not bleeding off into early onset of Alzheimer’s disease.
Case in point last Sunday we were going to visit son No. 1 and his family. I got up to put on some clean clothes and there was the inquisitor waiting in the bedroom. “What shirt are you wearing?” she asked.
I looked at her probably incredulously as I had not even considered that question and would not until I had my socks and pants on. It was then that I realized that a man picks out clothes in a far different manner than a woman.
A man will simply grab any shirt that is handy and passes the sniff test. That test involves sniffing a seemingly clean shirt to ascertain if it can make one more social gathering before being deemed unfit for human habitation.
Women on the other hand begin to think about what they are going to wear the moment they wake up. Having lived with Miss Trixie these seven years, I can attest the plans for the day dictate how she will dress.
For Ol’ Dutch, unless I am going hunting or fishing, retirement plans for the day are usually formulated after coffee for you see there is no plan. Just whatever the day brings to me. Miss Trixie doesn’t ascribe to that method.
Most men spent a lifetime having to dress in a certain manner for work but when we retire evolved in a Darwinian process to the “what the heck” dress code. Soon a T-shirt that says “Eat At Joe’s Frito Pie” or a “Lulu’s Diner Has Big Meat” is good enough to go about anywhere short of church and even then, would probably make the potluck Saturday night.
The woman who is partnered with a man who wears this type of apparel has long ago given up on changing it and just goes along to functions so she can hang out with the other wives of men of similar persuasion.
And yes there is always that one odd duck out there who shows up immaculately dressed and whom the woman swoon over at such gatherings but we all know that he probably cannot hunt and fish and so really is not to be considered a threat to our position at the head of the table as provider to the family.
So men, grab the t shirt, give it a quick sniff and enjoy the party. And have peace that at least your wife is going home with you even if she does like the suit that Barclay the third is wearing.

Kevin Kirkpatrick and his Yorkie, Cooper, fish, hunt, ATV or hike daily. His email is [email protected]. Additional news can be found at www.troutrepublic.com or on Twitter at TroutRepublic.