I went into the cigar store to get my husband a cigar for his birthday. Men sprawled in comfy red leather chairs, smoking pungent cigars, watched me navigate my uncertain way inside. I cringed at the smell and then reminded myself, “Act cool, you’re in a cigar store.” The store clerk, a young man wearing an apron, offered to help my obvious cluelessness. By this I mean I stated my absolute ignorance on the subject in a loud and unabashed voice and he offered to help. The men on the red leather chairs eyed me with the kind of smugness you feel when you’re in a comfy chair, know more than someone else, and are puffing on a symbolic phallus.
I paid for the cigar, buying one of the first ones the store clerk offered me--as it looked to be about the right size and it was the quickest way out of the store. He put the cigar in a bag and asked me if I needed anything else. I said, “Nope. It’s my husband’s birthday, and I was on a mission to get him chili-dogs, beer, and a cigar. Mission accomplished.”
As I left the store, I heard the men in the chairs repeating what I had just told the store clerk, “chili-dogs, beer, and a cigar” with the kind of reverence men usually reserve for a sportsbook or their mom’s lasagna. If only it was that easy to raise the value of a stock portfolio.
See, men are easy. So, ladies, if you need to show a guy how much you love him remember those three little words--cigar, beer, chili-dog.