All of this, of course, was designed to measure me into a well-fitting tuxedo for my daughter's wedding (June 16). Perhaps they should combine tuxedo rental with airport security. I'm sure they would receive far fewer complaints, and people would actually look much better in-flight.
But personally, I don't mind the fondling. I have spent months, years even, trying to get my wife to give me a proper pat down. But she doesn't like to play cops and robbers and continues to insist that my waist measurement has topped out at 40", even though I have trimmed down considerably and only eat donuts five times a week.
I am, however, glad that I don't have to be fitted for a tuxedo every day. I would hate to see Howard on a regular basis. I mean, he was all right . . . but I'd rather have my wife feel me up (as she does once a year on our anniversary or when I've cooked a particularly good batch of Hamburger Helper). When I left Men's Warehouse on Wednesday I made sure Howard understood that this was a one time stand and that I was not interested in a long-term relationship. He said he understood, but hoped that I wouldn't develop a desire to visit Ron at the J.C. Penney men's department. "Their suits are cheaper, sure," Howard admitted, "but we give personal attention here!"
I believe Howard, and plan to drop him a Christmas card.
Before I left Men's Warehouse I did sit down to give my information to Misty--a young lady who was very friendly and was only interested in my phone number and credit card account. She explained the options, and I decided to pay in advance. "This always works better with my wife," I told her. "That way, there are no misunderstandings. We have an agreement. We both get what we want."
She told me when I could pick up my tux and when I would need to bring it back. She printed out a contract and I signed it.
In essence, I agreed to wear the tux and to bring it back in decent shape. I explained that my daughter was getting married and that, if I wore the tux home after the ceremony, my wife might try to take advantage of me when I was most vulnerable. "It might look a bit wrinkled," I explained, "if she grabs for me on June 16."
"We get that all the time," she said. "It's a common problem with men in tuxedos."
Of course, I wouldn't know about that. The last time I wore a tux was when Becky and I went to the prom together during our Junior year in High School. She spent the evening bowling and I watched a Don Knotts movie by myself (you think I'm joking!).
I returned that high school tux in pristine condition. My mother thanked me.
But it's taken me over thirty-five years to repair this damage with my wife, and she still won't watch a Don Knotts movie with me.
Still, Becky should calendar the evening of June 16. She might get lucky. This time, I'd love to bring my tuxedo back wrinkled.
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