I HAVE NOTHING TO WEAR!

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I am proud to say that I am not now – nor have I ever been – a slave to fashion. (Anyone who has seen me would readily agree.) It just so happens that I prefer to dress casually because I like to be comfortable.

When it comes to my attire, just because an article of clothing has a few stains, or is torn, or is thirty-plus years old and most certainly out of style, it does not dissuade me from wearing it at every opportunity. Much to the chagrin of my wife.

Unfortunately, in her eyes, I am a grungy, grubby slob who does not care in the least about my appearance. What can I say? She nailed it.

But alas, my bride is just the opposite. For reasons I will never understand, she is very particular about how she looks.

The other day, we were supposed to leave the house at 6 p.m. for a dinner date with some of her family. This was surprising news to me. I didn’t even know her relatives were out on parole. Of course, if it turned out they escaped and there was a reward for their capture, I could be in for quite a payday. But since they were willing to be seen in public, it was unlikely they had busted out.

But I digress.

At 6:30, feeling dejected and filled with despair, my spouse shuffled into the living room, threw her head back, and (with heartbreaking drama), bellowed, “I have nothing to wear!!!”

Knowing my reaction at such a volatile moment could easily be misinterpreted, I struggled to keep from snorting derisively. I found her disgruntled declaration ludicrous, considering her closet is bursting with clothing of every description.

After thirty more minutes of rummaging through her expansive wardrobe, my wife finally decided she was suitably clothed. Now an hour late, but ready to go, she walked in, looked at me, and exclaimed, “Oh, my God! You are NOT wearing that!”

Now you would think that decades of marriage would have made me a smarter husband – but, sadly, that is not the case. Without giving my reply sufficient thought, I quipped, “We can always get separate tables.”

Of course, it’s never advisable to pour gasoline on a smoldering fire, but that is exactly what I did.

In her already agitated state, my harmless remark was more than enough to launch my bride into a cranky conniption during which she seized the opportunity to list with excruciating detail my numerous faults and failings as a husband (a list I have memorized through sheer repetition). The one-sided conversation took a significant amount of time because my spouse is extremely THOROUGH when issuing her scathing assessments regarding my marital shortcomings.

Ultimately, however, my wife grew weary (and hoarse) from sharing her critical observations. Having exhausted herself in yet another futile attempt to shape and mold me into the man of her dreams (instead of her nightmares), she decided the evening was now ruined, and she no longer wanted to go out.

With that, the love of my life stormed into the bedroom and shut the door with sufficient force to indicate, without any doubt, that I would not be joining her that evening. In other words, when it came to finding suitable sleeping arrangements, I was on my own.

Not a problem. I was unfazed. Having been forced to spend countless nights on our couch, I had come to regard it as an old friend.

So, with our plans changed and suddenly having free time on my hands, I did the only logical thing I could in that situation. I ordered a large pizza with extra toppings and happily devoured it, wearing my favorite pair of stained sweatpants and a tattered T-shirt while enjoying the game on my 75” TV.

And although I did not collect a large reward for turning in the felonious members of my bride’s family, I’ve got to say, it turned out to be a perfect evening.

Life is good.