I Know It's In Here, or, I'm Glad I Don't Own A Purse

We've all been there, whether you're young, old, male, or female--a woman opens up her purse and starts the hunt. Hands disappear in a sea of stuff, things bubble up from down below you and even the woman are amazed at ("Oh, so that's where my tube of fix-a-flat went to"), pens, keys, and tissues fly out like so much shrapnel, and upon that golden "I know it's in here, just give me a second," you go blank and begin to ponder eternity's breadth. As a man who occasionally works a cash register, the overstuffed, disorganized purse is one mighty bane. Nothing kills the quick handling of a long retail line like a woman with a messy purse looking to write a check. You hover with a pen at the ready, knowing that if after finally locating her checkbook (now there's a money-raining app to develop--a mini-GPS tracking device for the stuff in one's purse, though I guess most women would put the device in their purse and have to find it first before they could use it to find all the other stuff) she then has to suss out a pen, the man behind her buying just one two-bit item might die or kill, depending on how much he fears mace or a handgun lurking somewhere in that purse. If I'm in a puckish mood, I wait until after the check is (finally) completely written before saying, "I'll need to see some ID, please." Makes a guy wish he had a Monty Hall haircut and a wad of dough: "I'll give you fifty bucks if you can rummage out some dice, and another C-note if you come up with my missing teal sock."

This is all cramming my mind like tubes of lip balm, hand sanitizer, and white-out in a purse because the other morning I woke up to this tidbit on the radio--during her lifetime, the average woman goes through 111 purses. Well, owns/utilizes 111 purses; my estimate would be she "goes through" a purse about 111 x 111 times in an average month. Now I have a friend who's probably getting close to buying his one hundredth golf putter, but beyond such eccentricity, I can't think of any male equivalent to this 111 purses per woman stat. Now don't mistake all of this for a sexist rant. In reality, I'm thanking God men don't have purses; if so, this world would be in even worse shape than it is. I mean, let's face it--women stuff all of their stuff in a relatively small, portable place. Men spread their junk out everywhere. My car--glove compartment, passenger seat, back seats, and trunk--functions merely as my "clutch" purse. I've got closets, drawers, and a Pisan mountain of boxes serving as my real purse. And if I had a garage, ooh baby, it would be a large, shoulder-strapped imitation leather one with all sorts of hidden pockets. I heard a woman recently say this about her house--her husband gets the basement for his stuff, she gets two closets. Good God, if the average man had access to a purse, commerce, diplomacy, and for all I know sexual relations would cease to exist. As frustrating as it is, a woman digging through her purse looking for something pales in comparison to what a guy digging through his would be. Try this test to prove my point. Approach any middle-aged couple in a shopping plaza. Kindly ask the woman to dump her purse. Take stock of all the junk in it. Look at the husband, size him up, and imagine all the crap he would have in his purse. Repair to the nearest tavern to wash away the psychotic vision.

Not to say that a purse can't be an attractive, even tempting item for a man. Not in an "ooh, tres chic" way, but simply in an "oh, that's damn functional" way. I'm sure I'm not the only red-blooded, gadget-loving American male who's long been fascinated by those purse commercials on TV (it's been nearly twenty years since I've had regular access to a TV, but I assume those commercials are still out there). The ones that brag about the magic purse's disorganization-proof design. The purse with the fifty-two pockets and easily accessible key-ring snaps. But wait, there's always more--hidden zippered caches "for your valuables" (like you're gonna stuff your mink stole into it), and an umbrella that shoots out of nowhere the second the purse gets wet. Oh, the allure of the organized life! As a kid I'd watch those long commercials in amazement, thinking, if I were a woman, that's the purse I'd own, and wishing I had the means to get one for my mother (what could possibly be a better present for an 11-year-old boy to get for his mother than the Wonder Purse?), but alas, what with school and all, even if I did have the monetary means, the D of COD would have been difficult to manage. Those commercials were so persuasive to me that I used to roam the malls of my childhood astounded that every woman on the planet didn't own an Amazing Purse.

So ladies, today I celebrate your purses. That you have them, endure them, and don't swing them at snarky guys like me who roll our eyes every time you take the plunge and go spelunking in them for God knows what. Go ahead, splurge today and make your way one purse closer to that magical 111. May I suggest this brand...