The Sock the Dryer Ate

...Tasty...

I love socks.  No really, I do.  They’re fantastic.  (Don’t look at me that way!)  I’m the kind of girl who can spend hours–and way too much money!–browsing the racks of The Sock Market.  I don’t care if it’s weird either.  I love them, and I’ve managed to amass the greatest collection of them over the years too!  I’ve got socks of every shape, color, and eccentricity imaginable: pink socks, purple socks, fuchsia socks, and neon green socks.  I have socks that glitter and socks that jingle when I walk.  I have socks for every holiday and every occasion.  From toe socks to socks infused with aloe…I’ve got ’em all. My very favorite pair are shaped like sharks, complete with teeth that “eat” your legs when you wear them!  How cute is that?

Okay, yeah so I’m admittedly weird…I thought we’d already established that…

You’ll be relieved to know that there is one thing that I absolutely despise about socks: They have an uncanny ability to become lost.  And it’s never the whole pair either! No, it’s always one out of two.  How strange and frustrating is that?!  One has to wonder where they get off to.  Did the left one run off because my second toe is longer than the big one?  Did they get tired of my stubborn refusal to ever abide by the “Hand Wash Only” tag so many of them come with?  (That one’s not my fault; who in the world actually hand washes their socks?  Nasty germy, not at all okay!)  Or maybe, they really do fall prey to my infinitely hungry dryer like I’ve always suspected…

Come on, you know it’s true!!

Ahem….

Anyway, they must go somewhere

The worst part is that they leave their poor abandoned mate to face a lonely life of obscurity in the grocery store bags we all have gathering dust in our garages.  This is quite obviously a problem for people like me who don’t have normal socks.  We can’t just match them up with something close and call it a day.  While I neither have nor want so much as an ounce of fashion sense, even I’m not that tacky.  No, instead their poor mates are forever forgotten in those dusty grocery bags.  It’s tragically romantic if you think about it: There is only one other sock in all of the world that can complete the match.

*sigh*

But surely even more normal folks must have at least some problem with the Missing Sock Effect.  After all, not even plain, generic white socks are completely alike.  They may be close when you first buy that big $5.00 bag from Wal-Mart.  However, they quickly become as different from one another as my orange pom-pom socks are from the black ones with the purple cats embroidered on them.  No really, it’s true!  When you wear a pair of socks, they go through different trials and tribulations throughout your day.  Thus, each pair acquires a unique level of wear and tear.  Each gains an individual level of Eau de Dinge that gives them a different texture, hue, and even smell than every other white pair you own.  Don’t even bother to lie; you know it’s true.  If you don’t believe me, go check out your not-so-whites and it’ll wipe that “She’s an idiot” look clean off your face!

So yeah, each sock in the world has its own perfect mate that can never really be replaced.  Thus, I was perfectly justified the other day when I was very nearly heart-broken over a lost sock.  In my defense, it was the 4th of July…and they were these adorable little socks with American flags on them.  I had to settle for flip-flops.  Devastating really…

It got me thinking too about how people are really an awful lot like socks.  We all have this romantic notion that everyone has one Special Someone waiting for them that no one else could ever replace–a Soul Mate if you will.

It made me sad because, let’s face it, I’m not one of those plain, white socks.  I can’t just be matched up with any old sock in a pinch.  No, I’m definitely more like my socks–loud, vibrant, and one of a kind.  It worries me because what if I genuinely am one of a kind?  What if I’m like some sort of factory line reject sock?  What if I simply don’t have a match because one was never made for me?

I think it’s so terrifying because it’s so very easy to see as fact.  I mean I’m nearly 28 and I’ve never even been asked on a date.  That can’t possibly be normal right?  In any case, it made me realize that I don’t want to be alone forever.  I don’t want to be that factory reject.  I don’t want to be that lonely sock gathering dust because my match is the sock the dryer ate…

So, in the spirit of embracing our American responsibility to chase after our happiness instead of waiting for it to catch us, I have decided to do something about it: I’m joining one of those online dating sites…probably Match.com.

It’s a crazy, stupid idea and it will probably end up being a colossal mistake.  But you know what, I can’t really bring myself to care.  After all, people are always saying that there are tons of weirdos online.  Maybe one of them will even be weird enough to be my match…

Sincerely Yours,

The Butcher of the Bard

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