Bear with me a moment.
You know that first real boyfriend you had? The one you were convinced was your dream come true, made for you, just absolutely perfect? You know how that first relationship was the Best Ever, a true and deep meeting of the souls, and anyone who tried to hint otherwise Just Didn't Understand Our Love? Remember how every day you were walking around half swept off your feet, in a daze of wow, I'm with this guy! - and remember all the kind-of-embarrassing things you said to him, or about him to everyone else?
Did anyone else here have a heartwrenching emotional breakup with that guy, and then a little bit later, try to get back together again? And it was all awkward and wrong, trying to make it work again - all bitterness and possessiveness and nostalgia and recriminations - but you were going to try, dammit, because you didn't want to make all that earlier energy and enthusiasm you had look stupid?
Any of you think back on that guy, years later, and just wonder, my goodness, what was I thinking, how did I ever think that was a good idea? Why did I try so hard that second time? How could I have sunk so much time and energy into that? Why didn't I just break up with him earlier?
I think sometimes, your first sock yarn is a little bit like your first boyfriend.
OK - I laughed out loud and read this to my husband. I'm not going to bore you with the details of my first boyfriend, but my first sock yarn was closer to baler twine or butcher string than actual yarn. And because I made them myself, I wore them. Needless to say, I moved on from both that boyfriend and that yarn.
ReplyDeleteMy first boyfriend is (and was, mostly) quite a decent fellow, but normally I'd have to say my first sock yarn is of higher quality. This weekend, though, the yarn is just not working with me, so its comparative status is in doubt!
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