Have you ever noticed how men panic when presented with purses? For instance, the other day my husband wanted my car keys. So I said he could get them from my purse.

“No way am I gonna trespass on these premises!” he said, as he carried the purse to me in hands stiffly attached to outstretched arms. As far from his body as possible. Like the time he brought tampons to me after I broke my big toe.

I saw another man in a theater jump as if hot coffee hit his genitals when a female companion put her purse in his lap for safekeeping as she left her seat.

Then there was the young father in a parking lot who shifted his wife’s shoulder bag from front, behind and in between before hiding it under his folded coat, so that the wife could carry their crying baby. Evidently, crying babies are even more discomforting than handbags.

You have to wonder how guys get this way. They could be copycatting fathers, but where did the dads learn? Maybe mothers or grandmothers proclaimed the purse privacy code.

Come to think of it, I allow my grandson to play with my prized porcelain rabbits and just about anything else, private or public. But is he permitted to play with my purses? No way is he gonna trespass on those premises!