True Story©… Get What You Asked For
… oh, and I will NOT be addressing my absence for the last month. IYKYK.
When I dropped by my barber two weeks ago, the first thing he asked was "damn, how many pairs of shoes do you HAVE!?" as I was sitting down to receive my fade. I sat and calmly explained that my sneaker collection -- and yes, I wear my shit -- is a direct response to how we came up. We didn't have a lot, and 100% literally never got new release shoes, always the clearance ones or the ones that found their way to Marshalls, until I was a senior in High School and could buy my own shit. Even then, I got a side eye for buying them. Sure, we had Nikes but not the ones everyone else had. More frustrating is that this happened in the golden era of the early 90s, so my interest in sneakers at that time was mostly as an outsider who couldn't afford to come inside.
That was 35 years ago, and now is now… I work hard enough, maximizing my side hustles and rewards/credit to where I can usually make a purchase for something I want without missing a meal or a payment for something.
The problem, though, is that the PTSD of having existed in my past life doesn't go away easily. While the issues of my youth are not clear and present in any tangible way, my brain refuses to unlearn that shit sometimes and I just REFUSE to spend money.
Rewind about 5 years now. I'm sitting at my old desktop looking at sneakers and Wife Person™ happens to walk by…
Wife Person™: "Oh, those are cute, you getting em?"
Me: "Nah, I'on need to spend that money right now."
Wife Person™: "What, why?"
I started waffling, searching for an excuse that doesn't clearly SAY that I cling to making sure that the mortgage isn't risked in any way shape form or fashion, even when I'm nowhere near that.
She saw right through me…
Wife Person™: "That's bullshit, buy the shoes. You work harder, you make good money, the bills are all paid. Buy the damn shoes."
… I bought the damn shoes, a women's pair of Jordan OG in my size.
What she didn't know, though, is that she awakened a monster.
Something to consider is that as far as fashion and streetwear goes, this younger generation doesn't buy the same sneakers that us in the 40+ crowd does, even when Nike does throw us a bone and retros the ones from our youth. This allows me/us, when patient, to wait a month or two and get them on sale. For people like me, this allows me and my second childhood ass to actually GET some of the shoes I could only wish for in middle and high school. I didn't act yet, though, because we were about to move.
Time moves as time does, I grab a pair here and there sporadically, nothing crazy.
… then Wife Person™ changes positions to one where she is allowed -- is suggested -- to wear sneakers every day. In the in between time, she had taken a shining to Dunks, but now that she has moved fully into "stunt on these hoes" territory, she expands to other retro styles and even a couple of pairs of Jordans.
I swear, over the last 10 months here, it feels like there is a case with one to three pairs arriving every other week or so for one, each or both of us. And in a case of old habits dying hard, I make a concerted effort to pay as much UNDER retail as I can and will never EVER pay a markup. Either I get what I want at retail or below, or I move along.
This is where this exposes a tale of disparate approaches to storage and space management…
Me, unless I plan to deadstock a pair and sell them later, I remove them from the box and put them on the two racks on my side of the bedroom. Her, on the other hand, keeps the boxes but now is in this wild quagmire where very few of her shoes are actually in the right box and now every morning is an infuriating yet avoidable ordeal.
Wife Person™: "I need at least one rack like the ones you have."
Me: "You can have one of these when I get a new, bigger, one."
Wife Person™: "When will that be?"
Me: "It's shipped and en route."
The sale and shipping of the rack got knackered when the seller sent the package to Greensboro MS and not NC. Greensboro Mississippi no longer exists, and FedEx proved why they're the worst in how this didn't get resolved so my package never came.
One month and 2 pairs for me, 5 for her later…
Wife Person™: "Ugh, all these SHOES!!!"
Me: "Hey, I was fine taking it slow, but my wife told me I deserved to treat myself."
Wife Person™: "Don't--…"
Me: "Then she discovered the fun of going weeks without repeating a shoe in public."
Wife Person™: "Stop it, you were the one playing poor and--…"
Me: "I'm just saying, the volcano of shoes your closet is erupting onto your corner over there was your idea. You kinda got EXACTLY what you asked for!"
She stopped talking to me right then for the weekend.
Now if you'll excuse me, Father's Day is this weekend and my birthday 10 days following. I kinda expect to receive at least one new pair and plan to buy at least one for myself.
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