Sometimes, things just run their course, and as much as you try and pretend everything’s a-okay, there comes a time when you have to sit up, take control, and say “it’s over”. I had a ‘wake-up and smell the bacon’ moment recently, concerning one of the longest and happiest relationships of my life.
I’d known the end was coming for a long time, but I’d never had the guts to say ‘enough’s enough’. What’s a few holes when you’ve been together for 6 years?
We’d met in the fall of ’08, when military boots stomped their way into stores. It was a chance meeting, in an obscure shoe shop on a shopping trip to Nottingham. I was browsing the aisles when I saw them out of the corner of my eye, sitting there like they’d been waiting for me to notice them. I immediately tried them on and it sounds like a cliché, but it was love at first step.
The next few years were magical. Platform heels and classic brogues came and went, but I lived happy in the knowledge that the boots were always in my wardrobe, waiting, like a shoe safety net. If ever a fashion emergency came up, they were there to depend on. Dresses, jeans, skirts, you name it, and the boots went with it.
It was early this year when the cracks literally started appearing. The honeymoon period was officially over. I couldn’t wear them in the rain anymore, lest I get soggy socks. On more than one occasion, the worn-out heels caused me to slip on the pavement – I emerged from the ground each time red-faced to the stares of amused passers-by. “I am never taking you out in public again!” I’d hiss to them under my breath. But I’m a push-over, and soon enough, I’d be wearing them again, telling myself that things would be different this time.
But then came the split that was un-fixable. The boots finally gave up, breaking at the bottom with weariness. I finally realised this was the end, and we parted ways with a broken heart and a broken sole.
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