by Bruce A. Smith
I like hats. I have Panamas, Stetsons, baseball caps, Indiana-Jones-type hats and balaclavas. My wife has bought me many of those hats but not any more. She doesn’t like me wearing my hats. That woman is no longer my wife.
Initially, I never realized that she objected and I must have been unaware of how often I wore a hat. It must have been something like a gradually acquired taste, for I know I haven’t always worn a hat, but now, it seems I do.
The moment my wife first objected we were at the movies. She leaned over, nudged me with her elbow and said, “Honey, no one else in the theater is wearing a hat.” I looked around. Even though she said, “No one else is wearing a hat,” I knew she meant no other man is wearing a hat.
“Son-of-gun, you’re right,” I said. “Lots of baldheaded men here tonight.”
That was my way of flipping her off because I knew her real message to me was, “Stop being weird and embarrassing me,” and I didn’t feel like capitulating, so the hat, a baseball cap with my company’s name on it, stayed put.
On the way home we had a “hat talk”. The central issue was, “Why did I feel the need to wear hats indoors, especially at the family diner table.” But the deeper issue was “why can’t you be a normal guy?” but we didn’t touch that one.
My defense consisted of attacking her – nicely, of course – about her foibles, such as her cold hands and feet, and how she shocks me awake every night in bed after I’ve gotten cozy and warm and she wants to snuggle.
That night when I dressed in my pajamas I also put on my baseball cap. I had never slept in a hat before.
Unbeknownst to me, my wife dressed for bed with wool socks, mittens and a scarf. When we spotted each other we laughed so hard tears streamed down our faces. We made sweet love that night, but nevertheless, eight months later we were divorced.
During this time I developed a very strong desire to relocate from suburban Long Island, New York to the Smokey Mountains of western North Carolina. On a vacation my wife and I drove down to the mountains to start scouting for a home.
Of note was the fact that we drove in my Four-Wheel Drive, 3/4 ton pickup truck, not her yuppie Nissan sports car.
Heading into the Appalachians, I needed to get gas and stopped in Galax, Virginia. Besides fuel, I also wanted to learn if their famous fiddle convention was going to be happening any time soon. While I pumped the gas, my wife went inside to get a diet cola. When I walked in to pay for the fuel I saw a half-dozen truckers at or near the counter. They all wore Stetsons, or baseball caps that said, “Detroit Diesel” or “Caterpillar.”
I sidled up to my wife in line. When we got to the register we saw that the two women working the counter each wore neon orange baseball caps that said, “Disney World.” There was only one thing I could say:
“Honey, you’re the only one not wearing a hat.”
Yours truly.
© 2012 Bruce A. Smith; picture courtesy of Karelina Resnick.
The Mountain News - WA 
Oh my my my Bruce. Why would you want to “flip off” your wife anyway? It would have been productive if, instead of “reacting” to what your wife said about you wearing a hat at the movie, you had addressed the issue of going bald? Or you could have asked her why it bothered her if you wore a hat? Since you mentioned that you looked around in the theatre and saw a lot of “bald men,” I am assuming that “baldness” was on your mind at the time. A lot of men wear hats when they don’t wish to expose their balding heads. They “cover up” the fact. If the communication stayed there, rather than going to thoughts of “retaliation,” etc., things could possibly have gone differently.
BTW…many women come to bed with cold hands and feet. They cannot take them off. But you CAN take off a hat….so the analogy is not accurate. Besides, I believe keeping each other warm is an unwritten law of marriage :o)
You wrote the story Bruce. I’m just utilizing my access to “reply.”
I was not concerned about my balding pate, Paula – at least consciously. I still don’t worry about it, 20-plus years later.
To me the “hat thing” was a control issue. I liked wearing my hat. Period. Although I do have increasing light sensitivity, so a brim to shade an overhead light is often welcome, particularly a baseball cap. But I feel under-dressed somehow without a hat on, even outdoors.
Frankly, I was inspired to post my hat story after reading Josh’s essay on being a lummox. So, why are some guys lummoxes? Seems like a similar dynamic. Something internal and primal?
As for keeping a honey-bun warm at night, I’m all for it. I just don’t like being shocked awake by popsicle toes.
B
Growing up I wore a baseball cap constantly. It is something boys, more than girls, grow up with for some reason. As I grew older and began moving into more professional business settings, I unconsciously began to stop wearing a hat so much. Lately, I have begun wearing a hat more and more again. I envy Bruce though because I can’t pull off any hat beyond a baseball cap.
I do agree with Bruce that it could be based on control of some kind. Buying a suit for my brother’s wedding in a couple weeks, my wife said, “I’m glad you are letting me pick out your clothes.” I would be okay in khakis, a shirt and tie, but she won’t have that. Maybe I should look into a hat for it though.
What do you recommend for a wedding, Bruce?
I recommend something very cool, so be ready to spend money. I’m partial to traditional styles, but not bowlers or berets. I’m thinking something in leather, like a Brit racing cap – y’know the one with the sloped front that folds in the back?
Remember, I just wear them; I’m not a fashion consultant. Why not call your wife’s best friend and go shopping with him? I would trust his tastes. Plus, he probably knows all the cool shops to go to. Start with a specialist. Skip Penny’s, etc.
Maybe this is a time for all the gay guys at the Mountain News to speak up?!!!
Calling All Fashionistas! – We need your help –
B
Ok…ya all win guys. You’re both lummoxes!
I protest!