I can remember a time, let’s call it “the 90’s” when all I needed to walk out the door was keys and a wallet. I resisted the cell phone craze for a while, then after I graduated from college and moved in from my parents for “a few months” a friend pointed out that a cellular would allow me to give my number out to young woman without fear that it would lead to them having conversations with my mother. My mother is a very nice woman, but she has this gift, no matter who she is talking to, she knows what she can say to them that would be the last thing in the world I would want her to say. At the time I wore clothes with comical numbers of pockets, so I hardly noticed the extra bulk.

Then Steve Jobs invented the iPod. Damn you Steve Jobs! Over the past few years I have acquired two iPods, as well as various pants and shorts with more tradtional numbers of pockets. The burden of cramming everything into those pockets at times prevents me from leaving my home. I find myself wishing I had some sort of small bag I could put all my little knick-knacks and widgets in. I would, of course, want this bag to look good with whatever clothes I had on.  I wouldn’t want to look stupid.

Yes, I want a purse. Not a purse like chics have, more of a masculine European bag of sorts. Of course I’m not going to get one, largely because of social pressure, but I think from time to time I will glance at girls with a little bit of jealousy as I check my pocket to make sure my cell phone hasn’t fallen out.

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