sporadic thought bubbles

I know this is far from the most original statement I’ve ever written, I know there have been many before me who’ve claimed that men are like shoes. But as I sit and stare at the overworked, dilapidated three pairs of boots that have seen me through this adventure, I cannot help but resuscitate this sad old simile.

Men are like shoes.

When we are out shopping, we think we want just about every pair, but we know we only need one.

Sometimes we try them on and think they fit perfectly, think they complement our feet so well, think they’ll be able to sustain our weight and crazy walking patterns. But when we take them home they end up hurting us. Wounding us, covering our feet with nasty corns and calluses, forcing us to wonder how long we can suffer through this torture.

But we hurt them too, put them through hell and high water, until they are mangled and scuffed versions of themselves, rewarding their loyalty with eventual abandonment.

So I don’t know if I really deserve good shoes. I tend to choose the wrong ones for me, the ones that are obviously more suited for someone else. And I’ve always been so afraid of going barefoot that I hop from one pair to another, with my classically myopic foresight neglecting to remind me of the endless repercussions, the inevitable discomfort, the telltale scars.

I think it’s time to kick them off and put my feet up.

This entry was posted on Monday, January 7th, 2008 at 5:50 pm and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.