What Some Men Actually Do Better Than Women

Who knew?

By

Carren Strock

 
Published July 23, 2026
Illustration of a husband grocery shopping in a supermarket aisle, holding a glass jar and milk, while his wife is pushing a shopping cart containing a large amount of household products and food items
Amber Day

When I married Noel, I discovered there are two kinds of shoppers: those like me who stand in the cereal aisle wondering if our boxes at home are empty, and those like my husband, who stay the course and know exactly what is needed. I have finally accepted the truth. My husband is a far better shopper than I am.

Even when I remember my shopping list and coupons, and walk in a store with a plan, by the time I reach aisle 2 my cart is half filled with things we didn’t need. I can spend 20 minutes searching for pasta and instead emerge with scented soaps and three kinds of crackers.

My husband enters the store with focus and purpose and with an actual list, written in order of store layout. He knows the prices of things. He compares brands. He reads labels. He checks expiration dates. He brings coupons — categorized.

He does not wander, does not browse, nor does he stray from his list. And he never becomes emotionally attached to decorative baskets or shiny trinkets like I do. The moment we walk through the automatic doors of a store, whether for groceries or home goods, he becomes a man on a mission, never distracted by a barrel filled with markdowns or by a “limited edition” anything.

I tell myself, this time I will stay focused. I will resist two packages of granola bars for the price of one. While I wander the aisles completely lost, or distracted by sales, or fancy packaging, he remembers exactly where everything is. It’s as though he was born with an internal navigation system. No matter where we are, even if we’re in a giant warehouse, his internal GPS takes him where he needs to go. He doesn’t need signs. He doesn’t need maps. He just knows.

And as for speed? He zips down the right aisles and knows our favorite brands, grabbing the right peanut butter, the garbage bags that don’t rip and the milk we always buy. Unlike me, he is absolutely immune to temptation. I go for whatever grabs my eye.

Many women are competent household shoppers. Our culture has trained us to believe we are organized domestic multitaskers who meal-plan effortlessly and know exactly how many napkins remain in the pantry.

Some women possess these powers. I am not one of them.

Retail stores are designed to trap shoppers like me. Soft lighting, soothing music, samples of free food. Left to my own impulses, I will walk out with a cart full of things we don’t need. Noel shops with clarity. He knows the aisles and, unlike me, would not purchase something just because he “thought it looked interesting.”

When we reach the checkout, he unloads the cart with the same organization and precision. Heavy items first. Cold items together. Fragile items last. He places things on the belt like he’s doing a jigsaw puzzle. He also watches the screen to make sure every discount applies. I’m usually too busy trying to remember where I put my car keys when leaving a store. And if there’s a faster checkout lane, he senses it instinctively.

When we get home, he puts everything away — in the correct place. He rotates items so the older ones get used first. He faces labels forward like we’re running a small grocery store.

I used to find his obsession with order irritating. Now, I’ve learned to love this about him. Next to his shopping superpower, I used to feel inadequate, ashamed of my own chaos. But I don’t anymore. I feel lucky.

He is the steady, reliable force who ensures that our household never runs out of the basics. There is something deeply comforting about realizing marriages don’t require both people to excel at the same things. And now, when we shop together, I happily follow behind him, occasionally tossing unnecessary snacks into the cart while he makes certain we acquire necessities.

But here’s the twist — the great domestic irony that keeps our marriage balanced: for all his grocery-store genius, he cannot find a single thing in our own home beyond the goods he puts away. This man who can locate a tiny can of anchovies in a store he has never set foot in before cannot, under any circumstances, find the scissors or aspirin. Or the extra rolls of toilet paper.

So yes, he may be the MVP of the grocery run — the man who never forgets the milk, who moves through aisles with purpose, who emerges every time with everything crossed off the list.

But at home? I am the MVP.

Carren Strock is best known for her definitive sociological study, Married Women Who Love Women and More. She is also the author of seven other books, fiction and nonfiction. In addition, her articles and essays have appeared in Newsweek, Woman’s Day, Ms. and the Chicken Soup for the Soul series. She has taught courses at the International Women’s Writing Guild’s summer conference for more than 25 years, as well as at Yale and Brown universities. Learn more at carrenstrock.com.