We’ve been inseparable for more than eight years now. We met at the GAP back in 1999. I was a naive high school senior preparing for Winter. They were a pair of low-rise, boot cut jeans without back pockets that made my butt look ass-tastic. We were destined to spend a very long time together.
My previous pair of favourite jeans had been bordering on obscene for the past few months and had finally crossed the line from normal jeans to hooker-jeans, complete with an easy-access hole in the crotch and a rip for both knees and butt cheeks.
Jeans are a lot like men; you have to try out a few before you find your perfect match. I had to try out about 50 to find the one for me (50 pairs of jeans, that is). Luckily, being rejected by a pair of jeans is far easier than having my heart broken, or experiencing another soulless one night stand. My best friend has been there when I’ve had my heart broken and when I’ve looked for jeans. I think she finds jeans shopping more painful.
My jeans have always been there for me, through good times and bad. We’re attached at the hip. My favourite jeans are like a second skin. We used to spend nearly every day together, but after college our time together was relegated to weekends and the occasional casual Friday.
Lately my jeans have started falling apart. The seams are frayed, holes are starting to appear in inappropriate places, and no matter how hard my jeans try to help, my butt no longer looks ass-tastic. We’re both getting older. I’m a little fatter and the denim in my jeans is a little thinner.
I’ve reached that critical point in any relationship where I have to decide whether to try to patch things up, or move on? Sadly, I think it’s time to find a new favourite pair of jeans.