An L.A. grad student and serial online dater who calls herself “The Uncaught Catch” describes a harrowing experience with her latest in what looks to be a series of Mr. Wrongs. Her date’s fatal faux pas? Wearing a fanny pack.
We sat down at the sushi bar and all of a sudden, FannyPacMan (his new name) reaches for something at his waist. Since you don’t normally see that, I sort of glanced to see what he was doing. There it was. The fanny pack, in all its army green and dull blue glory (no Louis Vuitton or Coach here). I swear my eyes almost popped out of their sockets.
Untold numbers of us have suffered through our own nightmarish encounters with fanny packs. But Ms. Catch reports here for us directly from the front lines of the ongoing man-purse struggle:
what was it . . . like 1991 when those things were in? Plus, we were at a restaurant for dinner. . . . we weren’t going to Disneyland where you need to have your wallet secure at your hip so it doesn’t fly out on Splash Mountain. Oh, because I forgot to mention that, yes, it was a wallet that he was packin’ in his blessed fannypack. Now, why he couldn’t put that in his pocket like other guys, I don’t know. Or even in a man bag. I’m so ok with man bags. I mean, I actually kinda like them. But, a fanny pack? You just don’t do that these days. Especially in LA. Especially on a date.
Man bag = OK? Yessss!!! Validation from L.A. grad student! We are so on the right track!
- “He was packin’” [Writing Mr. Wrong]