My girlfriend wants a new bra for her birthday. Not an especially particular type, just a bra that fits comfortably. She�s even taken the trouble of showing me the precise one she wants. I am not a lingerie expert, so I am glad for the advice, if not a little taken aback by the brazen, pragmatic approach. I was thinking about something a bit quirky, or musical maybe, perhaps a new classical guitar or even a pair of running shoes. But if she wants bra, then fine, a bra it is.

I�m not accustomed to shopping for lingerie any more than I am for women's shoes, but I keep telling myself as I walk into town I am not really actually shopping for lingerie, you know, like spending hours browsing through women�s lingerie like it�s my hobby. I�m not even particularly self-conscious.

As I pass the bookshop it starts to drizzle. I shuffle amongst the trickle of Monday afternoon shoppers and wonder if I should have brought an umbrella. Then I wonder if I have even got an umbrella. Wasn�t there one by the door for a while? Whose was it? Mine, or did a friend of hers' leave it behind?

Whatever, I can always pop into a bar and grab a coffee if it starts to pour down. This is my afternoon off so I may as well do something as well as just buying a bra for my girlfriend�s birthday.

It�s not a lingerie shop but a department store with a lingerie bit in it. As the escalator carries me into the loft heights of the upper floor of the shop, I suddenly become quite self conscious of what I am about to do. The reality of queuing whilst holding a bra grips me with fear. This is unusual. I�m not some ultra confident person neither stupidly shy. I just don�t like the idea of it. I�d feel� well, just pretty dumb.

It�s childish, I know, and I shrug it off. I head straight to the lingerie section and take the right bra. I�m walking with it and then stop, turn and put it straight back and leave the shop.

What have I just done? I�ve copped out of something that really, honestly, nobody else in the world would actually care about whether I did or didn�t.

I was embarrassed. How on earth could I have been embarrassed? Maybe it is genetic. Maybe it�s society indoctrinating in me some clich�d and out-dated behaviour. Who knows, but it surprises me. Maybe I�m just having a strange sort of day.

Back at home and on the web I type in the name of the shop into my browser and click on through to the online lingerie section to find the bra my girlfriend wanted. It�s there all right. Same colour, size, price. I select it and pay for it.

So I�ve bought some lingerie online, out of a misplaced and bizarre fear of buying it in a shop, but I guess although in haphazard way, I did actually get the lingerie, online or otherwise.

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