08/30/2026
THE TEACUP TATTLER
The Shopping Wife
Husband vs. Girlfriends
Dearest Gentle Reader,
Having previously examined the Shopping Husband, fairness requires that we turn the binoculars upon ourselves.
Because there are actually two Shopping Wives.
The woman shopping with her husband.
And the woman shopping with her girlfriends.
They share a passport.
That is about all.
WITH THE HUSBAND
“We’ll just pop into a couple of shops.”
The first lie.
Ninety seconds inside:
“What are you looking for?”
Nothing.
“Then why are we here?”
Oh, bloody hell, he’s going to be difficult.
We are LOOKING.
Looking is the activity.
You pick up a bowl.
“We have bowls.”
Yes, darling.
And you have nine black T-shirts and enough drill bits to reopen the Channel Tunnel.
Put a sock in it.
Then comes the hovering.
Six feet behind you.
Everywhere.
“Could you stop following me?”
“Where am I supposed to go?”
I don’t know.
Find the other husbands.
Eventually, he does.
The Chair.
Every decent shop has one.
Within minutes, he’s sitting beside three other men, staring silently into the middle distance like survivors of the same maritime disaster.
You hold up a dress.
“What do you think?”
“Nice.”
Nice?
A digestive biscuit is nice.
“Do you actually like it?”
“Yes.”
“You didn’t look.”
He looks.
“Yes.”
“You’re just saying that.”
He now realises the question was an ambush.
The dress goes back.
Somehow, he has ruined it.
He doesn’t know how.
Neither do you.
But he has.
Eventually:
“Are we nearly done?”
Oh dear.
Never ask a woman this.
Shopping is not a dental appointment.
There is no scheduled conclusion.
We stop when the spirits tell us.
⸻
WITH THE GIRLFRIENDS
Now remove the husband.
Add three women.
Civil order collapses immediately.
Nobody asks what we’re looking for.
Nobody cares.
Within seven minutes:
“OH MY WORD, COME HERE.”
Someone has found a handbag.
“I don’t need another handbag.”
“Not the point.”
Correct.
Good start.
Then someone finds a $58 candle.
“That’s ridiculous.”
Everyone smells it.
Silence.
“Ohhhh.”
“It smells expensive.”
“It does.”
Candle approved.
A husband would ask who spends $58 on something they’re going to deliberately set on fire.
This is why he wasn’t invited.
Next, clothing.
One woman exits the fitting room.
Three girlfriends look up.
“No.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Your b***s have disappeared.”
“Take it off.”
THIS IS FRIENDSHIP.
A husband would say, “Looks good.”
Coward.
Your girlfriends will tell you that dress makes you look like an ottoman in a dentist’s waiting room and then physically remove it from your hands.
But then—
Someone finds The Thing.
Every trip has one.
A coat.
A lamp.
A ludicrous vase.
A ceramic goose wearing boots.
“THIS IS SO YOU.”
And with those four words, all financial controls are suspended.
“I don’t need it.”
“You’ll regret leaving it.”
“Where would I put it?”
“We’ll find somewhere.”
“It’s $180.”
“Wasn’t it $250?”
“Yes.”
“YOU’VE SAVED SEVENTY.”
And there it is.
Girl Math has entered the building.
The husband sees $180 gone.
The girlfriends see $70 freshly discovered in the wild.
By lunchtime, nobody has purchased what we came for.
But we have:
A scarf.
Two candles.
Earrings.
A decorative tray.
Some extremely expensive mustard.
And the goose.
Nobody remembers choosing the mustard.
It simply became part of the group.
Lunch.
Bags get their own chair.
Then somebody says:
“I can’t stop thinking about that thing in the first shop.”
Forks stop.
Eyes meet.
We ride at dawn.
Actually, no.
We ride immediately.
Back across town.
Back into the shop.
There it is.
“GET IT.”
“I shouldn’t.”
“GET IT.”
“I really don’t need—”
“YOU’LL REGRET IT.”
And now three respectable middle-aged women are gathered around Brenda, chanting BUY IT while she clutches a velvet footstool like she’s just won it on The Price Is Right.
Purchase made.
No regrets.
At 4:47, the husbands start texting.
How much longer?
Ignored.
We’re in jewellery.
Eventually, everyone returns home.
The husband watches the bags come through the door.
One.
Three.
Six.
Goose.
He looks at the haul.
“I thought you went for a birthday card.”
Silence.
Oh, bo****ks.
The birthday card.
Forgotten.
He points at the goose.
“What’s that?”
And there, Gentle Reader, lies the difference.
A husband sees a completely unnecessary ceramic goose.
Your girlfriends see the greatest decision you’ve made since leaving your first husband.
Husbands bring logic.
Girlfriends bring snacks, enabling and a trunk large enough for occasional furniture.
And frankly…
we already have enough logic at home.
Yours in friendship, fiscal misconduct and absolutely no idea where we’re putting the goose,
Lady Spillington
