You guys, Tim is the sweetest.
He works hard all week and only has Saturday to relax, because Sunday is spent getting to and from church and going to the missionaries' house for dinner. Needless to say, the poor guy doesn't get very many breaks. And here I am, jobless, free to do whatever I want, while he's working his little buns off.
The other day, I told him I really wanted to find a few fun clothes to take back with me, but I was expecting to go alone because, hey, shopping + guys = torture. If I were him, I would say something like, "Have fun shopping--I am going to stay at home and watch basketball/sleep/relax/do anything but go shopping with you."
But here is where Tim is the greatest. He volunteered almost his entire Saturday to take me to this store. He held stacks of clothes for me, helped me pick out the best pieces, scoured sales racks and picked out the best options, and spoke to sales ladies when I couldn't find the right size. Not once did he complain/hint drop about time/get grouchy; I think in some ways he enjoyed it more than I did, because he loves seeing me happy.
And to top it all off, the guy never made me feel guilty for spending money (probably because I am the tightwad in the relationship, and I could probably stand to loosen up a bit...). His only requirement was that I truly love what I buy, and if I do, then it won't be a waste of money.
Talk about a winner.
AND--when I got my loot home and decided to return some of it* (which I bravely set out to do on my own), he met me right after work to help me out. Then, when I saw something else that caught my eye, he patiently waited for me to try it on and even stood in a huge line of girls (see above, haha) to get it for me.
What is it about men that makes them so incredibly patient in situations like this? If I were in his shoes, I would have said heck no, let's go home, eat dinner, you can do it by yourself later. It's some sort of magical ability they have to put their own needs aside and focus on the task at hand. I've seen Tim do it many, many times for me and for others, and I've seen a lot of other men I know do it for their families as well. Whatever it is, I love it.
And, of course, the cherry on top of the whole thing: I managed to get some darling clothes.
*P.S. Did you know you have to have your passport just to return something to a store?? Blew my mind. Every single store I returned to (there were three of them) asked for my passport and had me fill out this complicated form. (I did my best, but it was entirely in Russian, and I wrote in English, so whatever.) At one store, they had forgotten to take the security sensor off of a shirt that had cost maybe $10, so I brought it back to get it removed. I had my receipt and everything, but they still insisted on checking security footage and making me wait 20 minutes with a huge line behind me...all for a $10 shirt. For which I had the receipt. They don't mess around with their returns. In Soviet Russia, stores return YOU.