dirty sock
We need to talk

Hey, man. We need to talk. I’ve been going through this over and over in my head, and I think a frank discussion is in order. And let me just get it out there, ok? I just need to say it. Alright, here goes: You really need to get a girlfriend.

Now, wait hold on, don’t get all defensive on me. Just listen. First and foremost, I’m a sock, ok? A tube sock, and although I am not a woman and don’t need the compassion and pampering a woman does, I still do need to feel clean every once in a while. Just run me through the wash every once in a while and rid me of these yellow teardrops. That’s all you have to do, but no; you’re scared your mom is gonna see me.

Why are you so embarrassed by me, anyway? Do I make you feel ashamed? Huh? How come when you invite your friends over, you stuff me under the mattress like a dark secret? We have a great time when we’re alone, but whenever our situation might be compromised, you throw me in the corner as if I were nothing. You say it’s because they wouldn’t understand, but I think it is you who doesn’t understand.

I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to go off on such a tangent, but you have filled me with such shameful bodily fluids, I couldn’t help it. The point is, you need to get a girlfriend. I think it has become pretty obvious that you have taken me for granted for too long now, and I think our relationship has run its course.

I will try to remember the good times, I really will. (Remember Playboy issue #342? )  But when you reach a certain age, you tend to grow, and I think that by the time you’re 38 years old, it’s time to move on to human/human relationships. It’s time for me to go, it really is. I’ll understand if you don’t want me to be put in your laundry basket for when your Mom does the laundry. You can just throw me in the trash.