Purple-shirted boobie

In the tae kwon do club that Greg trained with, part of the belief system was that you do not charge for classes. You learn for free, so in return, you pass on your knowledge to others for free. While Greg does not charge the students he is teaching, they occasionally bring him gifts. He has told them this is unnecessary, but sometimes they want to show their gratitude.

A few weeks ago, Greg came home with a purple and white checked shirt. He explained that one of his students have given it to him. It was very nice — long-sleeves, button-down, Ralph Lauren — but I had never seen Greg wear purple. In fact, it is nearly impossible to get Greg to wear any color other than green. He considers blue a feminine color. The shirt had a gift receipt, so I asked him if he wanted me to exchange it for a different color. He said he wanted to try it on first.

Well, he buttoned it up, and here was the preppiest Greg I had ever seen. In high school, I always dreamed of marrying a guy like this, someone who wore khakis and button-down shirts every day, yet looked totally effortless. But I didn’t marry a preppy. I married a Greg.

“What do you think?” he asked.

“It’s really not you,” I said. “It’s a very nice shirt, but I can’t imagine you wearing it.”

Greg looked at himself in our dresser mirror. Then he walked into the bathroom and eyed himself there.

“I wonder why he chose purple,” I said. “Maybe he thinks you’re like royalty. You’re King Greg.”

Well, that did it.

Greg strutted back into the bedroom, his chest puffed out and chin held high, looking not completely unlike a dancing blue-footed boobie.

“King Greg,” he said in a deep, purring voice. “Yes, I like that.”

So he’s keeping the shirt. Thank goodness it’s a button-down because otherwise it wouldn’t fit over his inflated head.

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