I Hate His Shorts

I am going to confess something to you:

I hate my husband’s shorts.

Not his cargo shorts (although those are questionable) but his denim shorts. His “jean” shorts. Those awful half pants. Those super casual and sloppy-looking carpenter jean shorts. You see, I’m of the same opinion as Alex Balk over at The Awl, which is to say, Men should not wear shorts, or, at the very least, Choire Sicha who deliniates when men should wear shorts (rarely! Never denim!)

I’m the first to admit that I am overly-formal in a lot of ways. I don’t like flip flops. I won’t put my boys in sleeveless shirts. I prefer heels and won’t leave the house in yoga pants unless I am going to yoga. And I hate jean shorts.

My husband’s jean catastrophe happens every night when he gets home from work and all weekend long. Sometimes he asks me, “Hey! Have you seen my jean shorts?” and every time I want to respond with “I sent them to Hell to burn forever in the fires that should consume all jean shorts.” Instead I cheerfully pipe, “Nope!”

Lately his beloved pair of faded blue glory are coming literally undone. If there’s anything worse than a pair of denim shorts on a man it’s frayed, discolored, and torn denim shorts. He’s asked me to get him a new pair. What if I tell him they’ve stopped making them? He’d have to go to a store or website to prove me wrong, and I don’t see that happening. Can you conscientiously object from participating in shopping?

Naturally, I wonder what item in my wardrobe he really hates. Are they the worn threadbare brown velour pants that are not maternity, yet I have worn to two births? The wide gray palazzo pants I scored for $2.98 at Target? The brightly-colored blousy shirt that’s too big and baggy? He’s nice enough that he hasn’t mentioned my detested wardrobe, so I don’t mention his; it’s what marriage is all about.

What about you, is there an item in your partner’s wardrobe that should be banished to the Isle of Corfu?