This happened when I was around 24 or 25 years old.
I saw a little gift shop and went in. Soon after
entering, I realized it wasn’t a gift shop. It was
about 80% devoted to cross-stitch, and the rest to
other sewing and candles. Very quickly I realized
that this store was some sort of Hallowed Women’s Territory.
I felt completely out of place. Besides all the cross-stitch
stuff everywhere, the cashier and a customer were swapping
kid stories and stuff. I considered making a break for
the door so they would know I didn’t intend to come in.
But I stayed.

My mom used to do a lot of cross-stitch,
and at some point (prior to coming to this store)
I thought it would be nice to try someday, just to
expand my horizons, and maybe understand a little of what
sort of enjoyment my mom got from it.
So since I was there, I decided to go for it. I looked
around the store for a bit. The other customer left.
I knew the cashier could sense my fear and
bewilderment: “May I help you?” Uh oh. The jig was up.
These are the times when boys become men. “Ummm,
I want to try a cross-stitch.”

What happened next my 24 year-old male mind would have
never expected. I was completely shocked: she was absolutely
delighted. Not merely happy or pleasant, but 110%
committed to helping me cross-stitch. “Oh, that’s wonderful!
Men are so good at cross-stitching!” Now that was something
I never knew. I certainly didn’t know any men who
were good at cross-stitching back then. And in the intervening
years I haven’t met any either. Still, she was the
expert and she should know. And she did know. “Really?”,
I asked.

“Oh yes!” Now she pointed to a gigantic, intricate
cross-stitch piece, like 3 feet tall and 2 feet wide
that was amazing. “A few months ago a big biker guy,
who rode a harley, came in and bought this piece to
make as a wedding gift for some friends who were
getting married. He came back in only two weeks
and showed it to me, and he had done a beautiful
job on it!” She seemed awfully eager to mention that he
rode a harley. Was she trying to stroke my ego or
something? If so, it was working. Now she again
pointed to the huge, intricate piece:
“Would you like to try one like this?”

“No, it’s my first time, and I was thinking about
something very small and simple. Not too many colors
either. You have to change thread to do a new color,
right?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

Then she showed me some giant samplers. Of course
I had to ask what she meant by sampler, because it looked
like a lot more than a sample of cross-stitching to me.
She explained that samplers were done by girls when they
were learning to sew.

We looked around a little bit more, and finally I found a
small sunflower piece that used about 4 colors. She
helped me pick out everything I needed including a frame.
Then she did the first couple of stitches for me
and showed me exactly how to do it. I asked her a few
more beginner questions like “What do I do about the
thread hanging off the back?” and stuff like that.
Then I paid and left, confident that I could do this.
I had to do this, because now I knew that men are really
good at cross-stitch. And besides, what nice-guys-finish-last
computer guy doesn’t dream of being a tattood, pumped,
outlaw motorcycle gang cross-stitcher? Even if I didn’t
have a tattoo, big muscles, a harley, or a motorcycle gang,
at least I had cross-stitching to improve my machismo.

That day I went home and started my stitching. It was
very relaxing. I found it was a good way to mull things
over. Sorta like shaving in the morning, but longer.
I completed my small piece in a couple weeks. I put
it in the frame, and I was so proud of it!
My first cross-stitch! I took a photo of it.
Then I mailed it off to a sweet female friend of mine from
college as a gift. We lost touch shortly after that,
and my first and only cross-stitch has been MIA ever
since. As a show of solidarity with my outlaw
motorcycle cross-stitcher brethren, I must never
cry publicly about this.