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Joel Klebanoff: Stuff & Nonsense

To worry is to be. To be is to worry.

Sole Mates

I have what I think is a brilliant idea for an innovative web-based business. Notwithstanding my extreme angst over the risk of having the concept stolen by one unscrupulous jerk or another—or maybe both of them simultaneously, I want to put the notion out there for a crowd-sourced evaluation. Here it is: an online dating service for socks. Or, rather, an online sock match-up service.

I don’t know about you, but I have a lot of single socks in my sock drawer that have been waiting years for a match. Their reprobate spouses—what heels—snuck out by still undetermined means and left them for parts unknown. Those unknown parts are possibly feet, but who knows what parts on which those wastrels might be found? If they return, before giving them pride of place on my feet, I’ll certainly check them for DNA residue.

I don’t have the heart to put my abandoned socks out of their misery by throwing them in the garbage lest their long-lost mates—or, in the case of over-the-calf socks, lost long mates—realize the error of their ways and return to their better halves. (Clearly better as they aren’t the ones who deserted their partners.)

Forsaken and forlorn, they sit at home, afraid to go out due to the embarrassment of being seen as an unloved, unwanted single sock. I don’t know why they should feel that way. I’m a sexagenarian and have always been single, yet I still go out on my own. But that’s me. Society isn’t as accepting of single socks, despite their being able to live very fulfilling lives serving people who have lost a foot due to a horrible accident or disease.

I’ve come to feel sorry for my forsaken socks. Hence, my proposed new web venture.

The idea is that you would sign your sock up on my sock match website and enter its colour, style, size, length (size does matter) and assigned gender. Or if it was tucked away in a damp and moldy spot until a new, intelligent life form evolved in or on it, it can sign itself up.

Deeper questions include whether the sock is smooth-skinned or textured and whether it is patterned or solid-coloured.

Then, the real magic begins. You, or your now sentient sock, enter psychological information that will allow the service to find your sock’s true solemate.

Does it like to throw convention to the wind by, for example, being worn under sandals? Does your sock insist on mating only with another of its own colour or is it more tolerant? Does it insist on a relationship with a sock of the same assigned gender (same-sock marriages being the norm, not the exception) or is it more open-minded or, possibly, more open-toed? For that matter, does it want to stick with its assigned gender or does it feel that it is a sock trapped on the foot of the wrong sex? Is it looking for a fleeting pairing or does it want to mate with a sock until holiness or moldiness do them part in the garbage dump? And so on.

When a match is found—when, not if, for I truly believe there is a solemate for every sock—the socks will be matched up and worn on a date, possibly dinner and movie. (I neither condone nor condemn balling together in a sock drawer on a first date. That’s a matter for mature, consenting socks to decide between themselves.)

If they are compatible, they then might move on to something more romantic, such as being worn in comfortable shoes, side-by-side—except of course at the apogee of  a stride—on a long walk in a lovely forest glade beside one of those oft-cited babbling brooks. Hey, comfortable shoes are romantic for socks.

Then, who knows? Maybe they’ll experience eternal bliss as they remain lovingly together up to and through retirement in some back, forgotten corner of a darling little sock drawer.

A single sock is a sole-destroying sight, unless, of course, it’s an introverted sock that enjoys being alone and, in its more altruistic moments, providing comfort and warmth to amputees. In that case, never mind. Not all single socks will be prospective customers for this venture.

So, what do you think? Will the idea fly, or perhaps walk? I’m looking to put my heart and soul—or, more likely, my heart and sole—into this venture

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Categorised as: stuff and nonsense


  1. Joel,

    Do as my husband does. He wears them and this way they are getting used instead of languishing away on their own.

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