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I hate shopping.
I mean, I really hate shopping.
So, what am I doing sitting on a bench in the mall, surrounded by bags of goods. It’s Jared’s fault. You see, my husband loves to shop. There isn’t a week that goes by that he doesn’t immerse himself in sales ads. I always know what is coming next.
“Come on, Sweetie. It will be fun and fast, I promise. We’ll be in and out before you know it.”
This is never my idea of a fun, Saturday afternoon, date. Still, somehow, Jared convinces me to go with him, every week. You would think I would learn, wouldn’t you. His definition of “in and out” is a world away from my conservative rendering of the same phrase. For Jared, to be “in and out” means that he will spend about twenty minutes to half an hour in each store in the mall, making for a very long day. By my definition, “in and out” should take only a few minutes as items are meticulously checked of a pre-existing list. There is no time for window shopping or perusing the aisles in my definitions, and there are no lists in Jared’s.
Take last week, for example. I made an innocent mention that I needed a new pair of jogging shoes. The ones I owned were more suited for church than the gym, due to the holy soles. Jared jumped on the idea, and rushed me to the big mall. Three stories of shopping pleasure awaited us. It took us three hours to go into every shoe store in the mall. Jared wanted to make sure that I knew what was available before choosing a pair. So much for “in and out”. Though, I have to admit that we were in and out of a lot of stores that day. I finally decided on a pair of silver and purple Nike’s, which just happened to be at the very first store that we went to that day.
Don’t get me wrong, I love my husband. I just hate shopping.
My mother, who also loves to shop, warned me that opposites attract. I just didn’t realize she was telling me that I would be marrying a serial shopper.
I should have clued into my husband’s fascination with stores when we got engaged. It was Jared that made sure that we registered for anything and everything that we could possibly need for our whole married lives. All the signs of his shopping addiction were there. I guess I was just too love struck to realize what was happening.
Oh, here comes Jared now. Are those flowers hiding behind his back? Did I mention that my husband is a bit of a romantic? It’s not the flowers, candy and small gifts that bring me out of the house to the busy mall every Saturday. It’s my love for the man who needs to shop. This is Jared’s time to de-stress after a busy week at work. It has taken me almost five years to figure it out, but I now understand Jared’s love for shopping. That understanding hasn’t changed my personal opinion about the subject.
I hate shopping.
But, I love Jared!
The opinions expressed by authors may not necessarily reflect the opinion of FaithWriters.com.
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