Definitely expected NOT to.

Humans, as social creatures, will adjust their behaviour to match the expectations of the group. This is usually a positive thing, forcing people to repress their tendencies to assault, steal, walk around naked and vote for single issue parties. Occasionally though it is outdated and unhelpful.

I was shopping for shoes this weekend. Nice work shoes, not sneakers or workboots or rocket roller blades. I had to look for STYLE.

I must confess that I was not born with any fashion sense in my DNA. I have more capability of developing gills than I do of picking out a good pair of pants. I don't remember willingly buying anything clothing related for myself before the age of 30. My life was one of hand-me-downs, cast-offs, and occasionally Mom taking me shopping by telling me we were going for ice cream.

'So what' you say. 'You have your wife or your mother, take them along.' This is good advice, and I have been satisfied so far. But dang it, I'm in my 30's. I should be able to pick out a decent shirt to wear, on my own, like a big boy. And no, I'm not comforted by all the other guys with their wives/girlfriends/mothers waiting outside the change room to make them 'turn around so I can see how it fits' while they all wonder when they'll get the promised ice cream.

Sending me into a store unattended yields the same result as sending a colour-blind chimp with a lobotomy. I find this out when I bring the items to my wife, or mother, or 8 year old and they say 'yech, that looks awful, put it back'. It's particularly embarrassing when the 8 year old diss' you in front of a bunch of 20 something metro guys. I know I could take the lot of them, but they do look very smart in those fitted shirts.

When I was in my 20's I was either too busy to care, or I was already engaged or married and figured I didn't need to look good anymore. I achieved that tremendously.

Now I'm in my emotionally fragile 30's. I know I'm no longer young, and I'm not 'old' yet, and I desperately want to look good before gravity takes too much of a hold on my skin.

So today I asked a coworker, a GUY who has fashion sense, what the secret is. He gave me good advice on clothing cuts, colour matching, and why I should never let my chest hair show. Anymore.

I do speculate how this affected anyone overhearing the conversation about my pants:

Him: You're lucky because you have a great a**.
Me: Thanks.
Him: You just want to make sure you have the creases in the right spots, which you do.
Me: So there should be more than one?

I don't like being helpless, and I intend to learn how to dress myself before I'm 40. And for darn sure I'm taking myself out for ice cream after.