On a recent shopping trip to the ladies department in the mall, I noticed many women accompanied by men. Couples were holding hands and strolling along. Even at the supermarket, men were pushing carts (sometimes with kids inside) behind the women, and some men were actually shopping.

It made me think of a column that Greg Bean, our executive editor at Greater Media Newspapers (and a great guy, apparently as long as he's not shopping), wrote about shopping with his wife.

In his column, Greg explained that he breaks out in a sweat whenever he enters a store and compared it to a trip to the proctologist. In the end, he realized he was being unfair to his wife for the past 25 years and apologized for making her carry the holiday shopping burden. He gallantly promised that he would accompany her this year.

When I read Greg's column, I was relieved to find out that my husband is not the onlyman who has a panic attack every time he has to shop for something - unless it's tools, electronics, music or boating supplies. Clothing and food are my jurisdiction.

However, lately he has offered to accompany me to the supermarket, but at the mall he would rather wait in the car if he can. While I appreciate his offer to accompany me and love the company, sometimes it's counterproductive.

Trying to get anything accomplished with a male shopaphobe hyperventilating behind you is as bad as shopping with an infant. It's hard to concentrate knowing our time is limited because at anymoment we might have to rush out of the store when our sweet little shopping partner has a major meltdown.

At least we were able to manage the babies by giving them a bottle and some Cheerios to stave off the inevitable, but coffee and a donut only takes a grown-up man so far. Who do you think is really the one hyperventilating on these trips?

Shopping alone can be a source of relaxation for me. Buying new clothes and accessories can be a great pick-me-up - especially when they're on sale. Whipping out a coupon to further reduce the price can result in a feeling of euphoria that almost rivals winning the lottery. Sharing stories of my coups with friends who can relate can add sunshine to a dreary day.

The increase of guys at our local mall can be explained by the fact that there are men who like shopping, but it might also be the recent renovations which include comfy couches instead of benches and a tremendous chain coffee store near the ice cream store.

One store even put TVs and cushioned benches by the dressing rooms. Men, even those with kids, often sit there chatting and having a grand old time waiting - with no apparent signs of breathing difficulty. (Although, one guy was sitting outside the lingerie dressing rooms, but I'm not sure if he was waiting for anyone in particular to come out. That was a bit creepy).

Although my three sons have no problem going to the mall with their friends, they all scatter in different directions at the thought of going to the mall or to the supermarket with me. It seems I have a habit of not being able to walk in, get exactly what I say I need, and leave. I tend to zone out while reading labels and always realize there are many other things I can get.

OK, I admit I might have a problem in that department, but they don't seem to understand that it'smuchmore efficient to accomplish as much as you can when you're already there so you don't have to go back again for a while. (Yet, somehow, as soon as I return from the supermarket, I realize I forgot something and the whole process must be repeated a few days later).

On a recent trip to the local home improvement mega-warehouse, I stood behind my husband while he gathered supplies for a project. He couldn't decide whether to get a "carbide-tipped" or "regular tile" drill bit. It all depended on what size "toggle bolt" he was going to use.

As I stood behind him as he paced back and forth between the numerous displays of bolts and bits, it occurred to me that I was beginning to sweat. My breathing became irregular and agitation set in. I started searching around desperately for something that would interest me and luckily spotted the ceiling fan section.

I ambled over that way and started to feel a little better as I admired the different styles. Even though I'm not in the market for a ceiling fan, I chose the ones I liked. It appears I needed a shot of shopping for something pretty to level off my nerves. Admiring the fans provided a twofold solution since the breeze also alleviated the beads of perspiration that had formed on my brow.

Now that I think about it, I guess I owe themales inmy family (and Greg) an apology. I can understand how shopping for something that doesn't interest you can become an unpleasant ordeal. I suppose there's no real solution to this other than to respect each other's feelings when shopping together, or shop separately.

Obviously there are other couples out there who don't mind shopping together. To them I say, "Good for you; now please stop holding hands and get out of our way when we run past you. There could be lives at stake!"

Amy Rosen is a staff writer with Greater Media Newspapers.