(A Special Post for SundayScribblings)
Christmas. 1996. My first Christmas alone after the seperation 6 months prior. I had been married for almost 8 years. After 4 months of isolation, I started dating again. Dating is a strange thing on it's own. It's especially strange when you didn't think that you would be doing it again.
I met a younger gal. She had long, blonde hair with curls cascading down to the middle of her back. It was the kind of hair that send other women to the coifferies. Once seen, this hair makes them feel inadequate about their own. She worked out every day. It was an obsession. Some cardio. Mostly weights. She was nice. Simple. She didn't have much. I knew the leather coat that I bought her for Christmas would mean the world to her.
It was a gift that would never be received.
She got upset over a fairly trivial matter. The incident demonstrated that she had the inability to trust me. If you want to hang with this guy, trust is part of the deal...both ways.
I went back to the leather shop with the wrapped box. There were no tear stains on the adorned package. We hadn't dated that long. It was nothing more but a store credit now. What do you buy in a leather store when you already own a leather jacket? Leather isn't my choice when I look for a hat. I wandered over to the shoe section.
"My Docs" called out my name. I had always wanted a pair. I don't know why. I'm not a biker and don't have a desire to look like one. They were kind of ugly. They had fallen out of trendiness long before. Little did I know that they would gain popularity again. Almost 10 years later, I am still wearing them. They are the first shoes that I have owned that really seem like friends. I finally changed the laces not too long ago. The new laces don't seem right. They are the stiff kind. They aren't the official Doc Marten cloth laces. The old laces laid down with the floppiness of a beagle's ear. The new laces stick out. Just like my ears used to before I grew into them.
I have many stories about My Docs. None take the place of their biggest story of all. It's the story of their acquisition. A budding romance that failed. Without her display of poor behavior, My Docs wouldn't have ever walked into my life.
I may have lost the girl....but I got the boots. She lost a jacket. I gained a pair of faithful friends.
12 comments:
*grin*
I make a toast to you you and your shoes. May you never be parted.
*smile*
-n
nice writing style...
used to have a pair of catepillar boots like those... these were steel toed; toe arthritis makers..
Now those look like proper boots - you don't need to be a biker to want some - but you do need the feet to fit them.
Sounds like you made a good exchange.
Doc Martens again! Everyone who wore them swears by them. I always wanted them, but for some reason they passed me by. Good post!
Oh this made me grin. Yes, I think it was a much better deal in the long run - your shoes certainly have served you well! Lovely little piece of memory there.
--Shuku
i can so relate.
heehee
:)
Oh, yea old combat boots, as we used to call them. Fun story. You got the best of the deal.
p.s. Liked your barbershop story too.
Ah yes, very good shoes!
Good on you for finding the better fit in the shoes and not the girl, nothing worse than something that doesn´t "fit" right.
The old reliable Docs! Had a pair long ago myself.
Pretty cool story. I'm smiling.
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