His Shoe Game

Before I get into a post, I’d like to announce that a certain guest blogger has finally been strong armed into getting his own spot! That’s right!! O is here. Took up residence on Blogsome Bay. I think he’s renting with an option to buy–and ya’ll this is how the neighborhood goes down, RENTERS!!! Anyway, let’s jus thope that O cuts his grass and resists the temptation to put speakers in his windows, while his drive-by homies from the WEST-SIDE loiter on his porch sipping 40’s, eatting chicken, and devouring watermellon.

As for me, I’m OK. Just a little worn out. Last night I enrolled myself back in rehab. CNN rehab that is. This is my second time needing the 12 step program. The other time was immediately following 9/11. Isn’t it something how when tragedy occurs, I need to soak up every single detail!! I have a sicknees.

I don’t very often talk about Manfriend. Nothing more than a quick reference here and again. But today is different. This MF has a mean shoe game. Lawd. Lemme tell y’all. He has so many, it stuns me. I though there were only three types of men’s shoes with little to no variation. Sneakers, black dress shoes, and brown dress shoes. Seems pretty clear right?? I’ve been around other men who had a greater variety. But never in my life have I seen anything like this.

Manfriend recently moved. Being the good signif that I am, I ‘helped’. In other words, I moved some clothes and shoes. As I was moving box after box of shoes (He keeps most of his shoes in their original boxes.), it occured to me, “This MF has more shoes than I do…But I’ve never seen him wear any of these…” That’s when I decided to take a peak. Guess what I found!! All of his shoes look alike. That is, they all fit into four distinct categories: Sneakers for Show, Sneakers for Sports, Black Dress Shoes, and Brown Dress Shoes. Ask him and he’ll quickly point out the sublte differences, but in my mind, they are all the same. I’m talking nice shoes too. So many that not one pair gets a chance to be worn out.

Let’s not talk about his clothes. I have dated some excessive bastards in my day. Dated a couple of tragic metro-sexuals. This, Manfriend is not. He just has a lot of shyt. So much that an entire bedroom in his home had to be turned into a closet. He has several (meaning all of TWO) distinct clothing categories: Work, Casual. And guess what!! All. Look. Pretty. Much. The. Same. To. Me. All very nice shyt! Some things with tags still on them.

I think it’s all a bit excessive. But I’m Ms. Cheapy McSpendthrift. He, on the other hand, believes since he works hard and still saves, he should be able to enjoy some nice shyt. His excess got me to thinking. First, I shall admit I used to be like that until one day I came home with an orange top. It hung in my closet a week or so. Then I washed clothes. What emerged from the dryer? The very top I’m bought. Same color, same size. I had so much, I didn’t even know what I had.

On top of his excess, that b*tch Katrina has made me think long and hard about all the things I have. Not just clothes, but good people in my life. Friends that I love like we share the same blood, but hardly see. Family that I hardly see, but should. And why don’t I see them?? I’m lazy and think they will always be there. I just found out on Sunday that a semi-relative I thought would always be there, isn’t there anymore. Hasn’t been for five years. Go figure. Meanwhile, I’ve been here, inside the Beltway with all of my stuff, so focused on collecting more stuff that I forgot about the stuff I had.

Most of the people reading this have a lot. We might even have more than our parents did at our age. We might have more than our friends. But if you are sitting in front of a computer, reading this, it means you have either a job or electricity and a computer at home. If you’re reading this, you probably have a lot but want more. Nothing wrong with striving for more each day. However, I think so many of us have so much that we either forget what we have or never get around to wearing/appreciating what we have. Shame on us for that. Shame, shame, triple shame.