I have the right to remain silent

Last Saturday, my wife and I replayed a scene that's probably familiar to any couple who have ever gone out for the evening. We were getting ready to go to a neighborhood party, and I was trying to find a shirt that 1) wasn't too wrinkled, 2) didn't have any noticeable stains and 3) didn't smell too bad. My wife was trying on some clothes that she'd bought that very afternoon.

I'd like to complain that my wife buys too many clothes, and often I do just that. But in reality, most of the stuff she gets is from one of those super discount stores where everything is 80 percent off retail prices. It's usually stuff that didn't sell at real department stores and ends up stuffed into racks in a big warehousey-looking place where cheapskates like me and my family peck through the detritus of the retail ecosystem looking for bargains.

The women's department contains all kinds of steals, as there's no end of different styles. There's weird stuff, but there's plenty of designer items at rock-bottom prices.

The men's department contains mostly XXXXL T-shirts promoting sports teams from far-off locations, sneakers -- often golden ones, in size 12 or above -- and dress shirts that might fit guys who would only get jobs as exhibits in "Ripley's Believe or Not!" museums.

My wife does pretty well, though, and often comes back from the discount place with five outfits for the price of one. This Saturday, she bought three skirts and a couple shirts. As I stood there sniffing clothes from my pile trying to select the freshest, she tried on different outfits.

Did I like this top, she said, or that one? Did this skirt look too formal? What did I think everyone else would be wearing?

Every self-respecting husband knows there are no good answers in a situation like this. You can pick the black shoes instead of the brown or the white skirt instead of the black one, but that's it. Never say you don't like a newly purchased item. Never, ever say something's too tight. And while you're at it, never say you like any particular item, or it will go to the bottom of the pile because she knows you have no taste.

My wife ended up selecting a white skirt with ruffly things on the bottom and a teal blue top, both of which I liked a lot but was too smart to say so. I ended up with a dress shirt I'd only had on once before, to church (at Easter!) that was only a little bit wrinkled, having been worn for a total of an hour.

As she was putting on her earrings, though, I looked down and stopped short. On her feet were a pair of ... I don't know what I'd call them. They were shoes in the back and sandals in the front, and they were bright, bright white. The back part was too big and high, with ruffles of leather hanging off, and they looked as if it had been sewn together by a caveman. An insane caveman. My wife noticed me noticing.

"Are those shoes ... new?" I stammered.

She smiled and turned her foot back and forth. Then came the dreaded question:

"Do you like them?"

I gulped. I could follow the time-honored tradition of men, handed down from the first caveman, who probably was noncommittal when his cave wife wanted him to choose between the bear cloak or the cheetah skirt. (He most likely shrugged his furry shoulders and muttered, in Cro-Magnonese, "Me like both!")

Instead, I replied honestly. It was one of those moments where you hear your own voice and wonder, stupidly, where it's coming from.

"No!" I blurted out. "I hate them! They're ugly! Horribly, horribly ugly!"

You'd think I'd stop there, but once I was on a roll of honesty, I kept going for a good three minutes, telling her I'd never seen uglier shoes in my entire life, and ... well, you get the picture.

My wife gave me the same look she gives the dog when he rubs his rear end on the carpet. She didn't say anything more, but glared at me as she switched to flip flops, flipped me a gesture of disrespect, and then flopped, loudly, down the stairs.

I just shook my head sadly. In three minutes, I'd proven the theory of evolution: Like the Cro-Magnon, I lacked the skill for self preservation and was doomed to an evolutionary dead end.

Me real dumb.