Socks

There was a time when I wore only grey, black and white socks. Thick ones. Only specific brands. Mostly because I had skin sensitivity with general polyester brands. And then one day black socks started looking ugly to me. I could only deal with white and grey. But eventually moved to more colorful patterns. Maybe to represent a more versatile personality hidden under the garb of same old boring, in the plain sight.

One of the last things we fought about was the 4-5 pairs of socks that I received unceremoniously. I still remember how much it irked me to open that packet. Reflecting back it was less about socks. We had discussed numerous times, that in relationship, people have similar privileges. Everyone needs to express love and they have their own mechanisms. And either you can allow that freedom to express yourself even if the action to express that is in conflict with your personal principles or you can set specific boundaries. But it feels wierd if the rules are different for both people. A constant debate.

She expressed that she was particular. Her choice and sensibilities mattered. My choice and sensibilities could be overridden by her need to express love. It infuriated me. I failed to comprehend often, how could someone so smart, learnt, and empathetic could be so eccentric? She felt uneven setup was completely ok. What made it worse was that she would let me buy a few things every now and then with careful guidance to make me feel like that I had similar privileges.

When I looked at those socks, I said to myself, it has been so many years since I have worn black socks, I am never wearing these. I messaged her and told her that she was eccentric and she never really understood my perspective on it. And I was going to send these back to her. The bedsheet, towel(s), sweatshirt, handkerchiefs, shoes, underpants, toothbrush, soap, shirts; everything was laced with her personality on it. In someway, quite single mindedly. It didn’t even feel like a conversation at times, other times it did, because I resisted vehemently. The part that often irked me was the sense of superiority that came with those things. As if, she always knew better. I am not saying she didn’t. Thats beside the point, it is the arrogance that I was put off by.

And then the toothbrush stopped working suddenly one day. The bedsheet faded. The sweatshirt felt a bit loose. And I realized that slowly all those things were slowly fading away from my life. And then I found these socks. Still fresh, as black as they ever were and waiting on a decision from me. I decided, that when the time was there, I felt like I held my ground, and now was the time to change my mind. So I started wearing them. All my other socks have worn out. These are the primary socks I wear on most days. And everytime I look at them, they remind me of all this and confuse me. Was it really the fact that she failed to understand me on this point or was it my failed agency to accept and change? I don’t know. And now it does not matter.

Now, I can only Sock it up!