Pedestrian View

I was sitting at a meeting and my wallet was driving me crazy.  I was supposed to be thinking about student internships, but all I could think was, “This danged wallet is weighing me down.  I can’t take it another minute.” 

I’ve been keeping it in my front pants pocket for the last ten years since it became apparant that sitting on my wallet was messing up my lower back.  This worked out fine for awhile, but at this meeting…

I just had to get rid of it - get it off my body.  The pressure.  The weight.  My leg was screaming, “Get off me!”  I took it out and put it in my briefcase, and a sense of relief washed over me like Musak in a bank elevator (I was looking for a money metaphor).  The implications of my own materialistic obsessions aside, I put my cell phone in my brief case, too.

More and more, my brief case - my man purse - is getting used in this way.  It’s a soft vinyl case with a shoulder strap that I’ve been using for neigh fifteen years.  Primarily it’s been used for books and papers, but now it’s geting more personal - besides Wallet and Phone, there are Keys, Glasses, Toothbrushes, and Tissues.  I’m comfortable with the idea of a man purse, though a lifetime of habit still has me occasionally searching for Wallet or Glasses. 

There are also a few kinks that need to be worked out.  For example, I went biking with my man purse strapped to my bike rack, and threw Keys, Wallet, and Phone in there.  When I got home later in the day, Sherry held up crushed Phone and said, “Looking for this?”

“Uh, no.”  I hadn’t even known it was gone.  Apparantly Phone and Keys made a break for it somewhere over in Kenwood when I’d passed through earlier in the day.  I can see them leaning out that space between the sidewall fabric and the zipper.

“You go first, man.”

“No, you go.”

My money’s on Phone. 

Wallet, being more responsible and loyal, decided to stay in my man purse (does he understand that I’m rejecting him at some level?).  Good boy. 

I think the phone was run over by a Hummer.  Some guy found both items and was able to call home with the crushed phone.  Miracle?  Or speed dial?

I have some questions.  I only have the one, but will I start looking for man purses that match my outfits?  My mood?  My shoes?  Will people recognize it for what it truly is, or just think it’s a brief case?  Finally, if they do recognize it as a man purse, will they ridicule me like 3rd graders?  (Please leave answers below.)

The man purse is a work in progress, but I enjoy parading around with nothing in my pockets.  I’m reminded of my wife’s grandmother, who has been becoming more and more confused in recent months.  Mostly, she’d just like to take her clothes off and lay in bed.  I can understand that.