The report I have over the years, from wives who with their husbands are friends, is that men don’t like to shop. It’s the women who do the shopping for the family -- except for teenagers -- including clothing and other personal things their husbands use.

Over the years I have asked some of these husbands about their aversion to shopping. The most common and non-enlightening response has been, "I just don’t like it." I’ve tried pressing them by asking about shopping for gifts for their wives. More often than not my question brings on facial and body language akin to reliving the memory of a root canal procedure.

Women apparently are a different breed. Among the women I know, shopping is a regular activity and one that is not abhorred and maybe even enjoyed.

I have a friend for whom shopping is recreational. In the thirty or so years I have known her, she goes shopping three or four times a month. Because she works, Saturday is synonymous with shopping. She leaves home around ten and doesn’t get back until five. Shopping, however, is not synonymous with buying.

I remember some years ago chatting with her about her weekend shopping excursions. Assuming, erroneously, that I was interested, she invited me to go with her. Well, why not. The following Saturday I picked her up at ten and we headed for one of Washington, DC’s 100-store malls. First stop was a two-story mega shoe store. She started down an aisle and I followed. After passing through several aisles I asked what kind of shoes she was looking for. "I don’t know. I will when I see them." I was beginning to think I had been taken hostage socially by a shopaholic.

After an hour of touring shoe store aisles, handling several models and trying on a few, we moved on. No sale. But also no sign of disappointment or discouragement. Two stores later I proposed a lunch break.

A quick sandwich and we pressed on. For what, I had no idea and I now doubted neither did she. I suggested we split up so I could do some shopping and we would meet at the fountain in the center of the mall at five. She agreed and moved on. I bought a ticket to a multiplex and watched a reasonably entertaining movie.
Meeting at the fountain at five I noted she still had her purse on her arm but nothing by way of packages.

Her response to my question, "I didn’t find anything that caught my eye." I had learned my lesson. This was the first and last time I went shopping with her. We’re still friends. We just stopped shopping together.

Living alone means I shop, of necessity. I must confess I enjoy my weekly foray into Publix and Harris Teeter to restock my pantry and refrigerator. I like to cook, so I plan meals in advance and that requires acquiring the makings. Bringing home my purchases and putting them away, I’m like a kid with new toys. And I get to eat my toys.

Men, be kind. Don’t drum me out of our mutual gender corps. Remember I live alone so shopping is a necessity. Just overlook that I enjoy it. Please!