Last Thursday, Nelson and I went out for drinks with Becky and her people. It was quite fun. Delicious cocktails were consumed, good conversation was had, catching up happened. Good stuff.
So, we are out for cocktails, and I notice that Nelson, who is sitting beside me, is wearing a shirt with small hole just beneath the collar. It was an undershirt; he was wearing a sweater with a mock turtleneck and a zipper over top of the undershirt, but the undershirt was visible.
I cannot tell you how distracted I was by the hole in his shirt. Every time I looked at him, I couldn't help but stare at the hole. It really bothered me. Well, it bothered me until I finished my first drink. Nothing bothered me much after that.
Now, I didn't say anything, because I'm certain he had no idea it was there and he'd have felt terribly self conscious if I'd brought it up, but I made a mental note to check his undershirts for hole the next time I did the laundry.
So, we went out with some friends on Saturday night to celebrate my birthday. Nelson was wearing jeans and a button-down shirt, layered over an undershirt. AND THE UNDERSHIRT HAD A HOLE IN IT. Different undershirt, different hole.
Okay, so then this morning as I was saying goodbye to Nelson, I could not help but notice that he was wearing a green T-shirt underneath is gray polo shirt. What the heck? He told me he was out of undershirts, and I glanced over at the overflowing basket of clean laundry and told him to just grab one, but he deflected me and wore the really ill-matching ensemble to work anyways.
Clearly there is something going on with this man and his undershirts, right?
As I was folding the laundry this morning, I found that four of his white undershirts, that's nearly HALF of his entire white undershirt collection (he has like 10), had holes or worn collars. HALF. I pulled them all aside so I could throw them away and buy new ones, but then I thought, "Why has he not mentioned the terrible state of his undershirts? Maybe he likes his holy undershirts?"
Anyways, I decided not to throw them away. He is weird about clothes like that. We have a whole plastic bin in our attic full of holy T-shirts (not undershirts, graphic T-shirts) that he has not worn in 10 years, but wants to keep for sentimental reasons. Maybe he has some kind of sentimental attachment to his undershirts? I do bleach them, so they look all nice and new, apart from the holes at least.
I will also have you know that Nelson has probably never purchased an undershirt in his life. He went straight from having his mother buy them to having me buy them, so possibly I am falling down on the job here? Should I just rotate out the holy ones and rotate in new ones? I realize that I'm making too much of this, I do, but you know how sometimes the weirdest questions will HAUNT you?
I'll ask him if I can toss them tonight, but I'm just so curious about these holy shirts.
Could it be that he just does not notice the holes?
Does he prefer them because they are so soft an worn?
Has he been waiting for me to buy him some new undershirts?
Why are men such a mystery?