I have a love/hate relationship with my boyfriend’s clothing. Mostly hate, as in “You’re not actually going to wear that are you? I hate that shirt!”
I know, I know, so cliché. But seriously. The man is 44 years old and he still has t-shirts from his high school days in his drawers.
Oh wait, I was just corrected: his college days. “And they’re still good, why would I throw them out?” he says.
Um, because they don’t fit? Or maybe because they’re so threadbare that you can see patches of skin through them? Or possibly because they are hopelessly outdated screenprints from the 80’s—and we’re not talking the might be “back in vogue” 80’s either. Twenty-five years is a long time for a t-shirt to be a viable piece of clothing.
Then there’s his sock drawer. I was looking for a pair of ratty, holey tube socks for a Halloween costume. “I guess I could buy a pair and cut them up,” I mused, because I know damn well I don’t have—well, first of all I don’t own a pair of tube socks, and secondly, when my socks get holes, they get thrown out.
“Oh, no, I have a drawer full of old ratty socks,” he said cheerfully.
I think even he blushed a little when I stared at him incredulously. “A whole drawer-full of old socks?!? Why in the world?”
He shrugged self-consciously. “I might need them for rags or something.”
In the five years we’ve lived together, I’ve slowly been weeding out the clothing I find patently unacceptable. Endless black t-shirts, many with holes under the armpits. Underwear with holes in places I won’t mention (what good are they if all the parts they are supposed to be covering hang out?) Grey, dingy sweatshirts from the 70’s. And yes, those mismatched socks from the sock drawer went too.
Gradually, I’ve been adding color to his almost-defiantly monochrome black-white-and-grey wardrobe. I started slowly with browns and greens—don’t want to send him into shock or anything. Then, when we went on a vacation recently, I encouraged him to branch out into blues, and even a couple brighter colors. I introduced the concept of button down shirts, of layering occasionally, and of a classy sweater or two for winter weather to replace his t-shirts-only choice of shirt styles. And the other day, he bought something besides Wrangler jeans! I was awfully proud of him (and I showed him by stripping them off him as soon as we got home. A little positive reinforcement never hurt anybody.)
He’s actually come a long way from his “grey” days as I call them. He’s a pretty sharp dresser when he chooses to be, and lately, he chooses to be a lot more often than not.
Must be all that positive reinforcement.
Oh, I almost forgot the love part of that “love/hate” thing, didn’t I? Well, don’t tell my boyfriend, but I have a guilty secret: I kept one of his old, threadbare, grey sweatshirts. When he’s out of town, or I am feeling blue, I curl up in it with my favorite blanket. It is the softest piece of clothing I—er, he—owns!