Fucking assholes

There are people who can pull off seasonal clothing, I think we can all agree on that. Babies, grandmas, little kids who get forced into it by their parents who want to take pictures that will subtly mock them for the rest of their lives — these are the people who can pull of Christmas sweaters. Or socks that have little pictures of pumpkins on them. Or a broach with the Easter bunny’s head popping out of a cracked egg. Frankly no one should be doing it, but if you’re distinctly young or distinctly old and you really want a picture of Frosty The Snowman on your boob, go for it. You will notice however that nowhere do I list “Internet dater” as someone who gets the special seasonal outfit dispensation. In fact, I would probably say the last person on the face of the earth who should be wearing holiday-themed clothing is someone going out on a date with a person they’ve never met. Unless you’re dating Santa Claus, in which case it would probably put him at ease. I, however, am most certainly not Santa Claus…

She walked into the coffee shop on the 5th of July, and she was wearing an American flag top. But really, that doesn’t do it justice. The entirety of her shirt was an American flag, with the stars up around her left shoulder, and then the stripes wrapping around the rest of her torso. There are flags flying outside of people’s houses that are more discrete. And it was covered in little gems that I believe were to signify fireworks. It was, needless to say, an extremely patriotic fashion choice. Especially considering it’s the 4th of July that people traditionally use to celebrate our independence. After a few excitement-filled minutes…

Imagine this, but in a shirt.

Her: So…do you like my shirt?

Me (impressively genuine): Yes, it’s very festive!

Her: Yeah, I wore it yesterday to my friend’s cookout. So it might smell a little like the grill.

I’m pretty sure the smelling bit was a joke. Pretty sure. But the only thing worse than wearing a holiday shirt the day after the holiday actually happened is admitting that you’re wearing that shirt for the second day in a row. Whether it smells like hamburgers and hot dogs in addition is really insignificant. It has never occurred to me to pull anyone aside, much less a date, and whisper “psssst…see this shirt? I’ve been in it for two days. You think I can make it to three?” But maybe it’s my lack of imagination.

But truth be told, the rest of the date was fairly innocuous. She was a perfectly sweet girl, and in fact very nice looking, there just wasn’t a tremendous spark. I considered writing about her for this site, but didn’t think one odd fashion choice on one particular day was really worthy of remark. I mean, pretty much every fashion choice I make is odd. But then, last night, my mind was changed…

I was out at a bar with an old friend, when who should walk in but Lady Liberty herself! I was surprised to instantly recognize her, as our date was a few years ago. My friend saw me react and immediately asked for the story. So I explain to her the business about the shirt and the hamburgers and the 5th of July, and then as she sits down I get a good look at her and…Holy God In Heaven She’s Wearing a Christmas Sweater!!! A Christmas Sweater! On February 24th! Two white little reindeer dancing around on a field of bright red wool! The girl who I remember only for wearing out of season seasonal clothing has now reappeared in out of season seasonal clothing! My head was going to explode.

"Seriously lady, it's almost March."

Immediately I was filled with questions. Does she only own holiday outfits? And if so, Valentine’s Day was two weeks ago, how did it get skipped in the rotation? Or does she know that I still remember the American flag number and just showed up to fuck with my mind? Maybe she’s just a confused old lady who had really good plastic surgery? And what does her dry cleaner say when she drops off a snappy Thanksgiving vest in the middle of September?

I may never know the answers to these questions, as I was too timid to ask her before she darted off into the night. Hopefully I’ll see her again one day, perhaps this summer, wearing her favorite Black History Month tank top. Or on Christmas Eve, dressed in her Arbor Day best. Or…well, you can see where I’m going with this…