by gorn » Fri Mar 25, 2011 12:44 am
All things considered, I had a pretty good Thursday, MKF. And it's not just my clean socks.
(I know I'm risking the ire of damn near every Kitten out there, but I've got to be up-front and honest about this - I can't remember the last time I didn't have clean socks ... thanks to Mrs. Gorn. I know, I know, I feel kinda bad about it, but the horrible truth is before I was domesticated I would occassionally ... actually often ... turn my socks inside out and wear them again the next day, particularly if I was just sitting around the house. This horrifies Mrs. Gorn to no end, and she washes my socks religiously to prevent me from doing this.)
Alright, MKF, I'm going to keep talking about my socks, but this is NOT the reason I came here today. Goddammit, Boschi ...
This is my real Stinky Socks story; that bit about turning them inside out is true, but to be perfectly honest they don't stink all that bad when I do/did it. It was my first year in Japan, and I was coming up on the end of a ten day sight-seeing trip. To save money, I was crashing the last night at this girl's house I used to know from university; she was in Japan teaching on the same program I was, and she happened to live close to the airport. Anyway, I hadn't packed enough socks, and I'd been wearing my current pair for a few days. Most of the time I'd just been traveling on my own, so it wasn't a big deal. It was winter, too, so they were the big grey wolly kind, pretty comfy, the only ones like that I'd packed.
The two of us had been out together most of that day, she was showing me around her town, all the touristy kind of things to see, and then we'd done a hefty bit of drinking after dinner. Real hefty, because foreigners fresh off the boat in Japan who lived out in little communities like we did tend to get cabin fever pretty bad - when you go out and have a beer with someone who actually speaks your language, you enjoy it SO much you don't stop at one or two or three or four.
So we stagger back to her place well after midnight, and I crash on the floor next to her bed. She didn't have a sofa - a lot of folks don't have much furniture over there - just her bed and a spare futon. We're still laughing and talking about whatever it was we were talking about, and I remember suddenly that I'm wearing these nasty stank woolen socks. I'm afraid to take them off in front of her, so I quickly hide my feet under the blanket and discreetly kick them off, hoping she won't notice as long as they stay under the blanket (I'd been drinking, so this seemed like the best thing to do).
Lights are out, she's in her bed, I'm on the floor next to it on the futon, and neither one of us can sleep. We just keep talking and talking, like neither one of us really want the day to come to an end. You know that feeling? I'm actually having a really good time ... but in the back of my mind I'm scheming for a way to smuggle these foul socks out from under the blanket and into my suitcase without her noticing. She drank as much as I did, surely she'd have to get up and go to the bathroom sooner or later ... ?
Well, no such luck. Finally she says that's it's weird talking like this in the dark with me on the floor, so she climbs out of bed and lays down on the futon next to me. It was a big futon, it wasn't like she was snuggling up to me, but I'm still thinking, "whoa, hot damn!" I mean, we were both drunk & single, why the hell not? I haven't mentioned she was beautiful, but she was. Blond hair, kind of a kinky perm, bright green eyes, real curvy ... you know where this is going? Well, not there. Nothing happened that night. I was petrified that she'd find those goddamn socks under my blanket, and I never made a move. At one point she was sitting up with her back against the bed, and when we finally ... finally ... fell asleep, she went and laid down the other way, with her head at my feet.
You ever want to stand up, pull out your hair and just yell, "FUUUUCK!!!!" ? That was kinda how my night ended. As soon as I heard her snoring (yeah, she snored, and it was the cutest fucking thing you ever heard in your life), I delicately, gently, silently, like a reject from ninja school snuck those socks out from under the blanket and buried them way, way down in the depths of my suitcase. When I finally got home, I burned those fucking socks in a furnace.
There's a happy ending to all of this, though. For a while at least, there was. She came up to stay with me a couple months later, and what should've happened that night happened almost right way without those damn socks to get in the way. We took a few more trips around Japan together before she finally went back to the States, and to this day those trips are some of the best memories of my life. Not to say that I'm not happy now, but that was a special time in my life you can't ever go back to. We were young, no worries, living an adventure overseas most people only dream about ... but we were also lonely, different from everyone else, far away from home in a strange land. We bonded in that short time in a way that probably isn't really possible under different cirumstances.
She asked me once why I didn't do anything that first night, and I told her the truth about those socks. She laughed and said she never even noticed. Much ado about nothing, I guess.
Kinda like this entire post. I'm sorry, MKF. I don't know what put me in this mood tonight, other than perhaps the normal mystery of Thursday. I had no intention of talking about socks or any of the rest of this, it just sort of happened.
Happy Thursday, all.
I spent most of my money on liquor and women,
The rest I wasted.