For the longest time I have been on the search for the perfect pair of boots. For years I traveled far and wide, up and down, over and under for the pair that called me. I wore many, many pairs that I just got because they were cheap, others that hurt my feet because they looked nice on the outside, but they all were exciting and showy in the beginning and would be relegated to the back of my closet - or the donation bin - after a few months of painful endurance.
In Japan I saw many that were so beautiful and weird I had to have them, but they were all out of my price range at the time. Sometimes I still think about them wistfully, but they're long gone and I knew in the end it was never meant to be, anyway.
Along my travels I would do a double take if I saw a girl wearing nice boots. I'd gawk, covet, envy, sometimes even whip out the camera to take a photo of her feet so I could look up the style later.
Finally, I found these. They weren't something I would have gotten for myself originally, but something about them was just.... "right" and the opportunity had pretty much just fallen into my lap. So I sprung for them, and once I opened my mind enough to try them on and try them out, I was hooked.
I admit that ever since I first ran my fingers over the beautiful, thick, supple leather that smelled so rich and good to me, I never looked back. I had what I wanted right here and there was never a need to envy another girl for her shoes ever again. That feeling has never faded, the feeling of "Hers are cool, but mine are better." It doesn't matter if anyone agrees with me or not. I believe it for myself, and I know.
But not all is perfection. As I wear them they will get scuffed, dirtied, and worn. I know the soles will eventually lose their unique tread and the leather will dull and fade, but they'll still be my boots, serving well for years to come. The right boot also is difficult to pull on and I need to struggle and strain to step in it each morning, and some days I'm unsure of my decision to keep these because of the slightly imperfect fit. But once we stop fighting and I get it on, life is perfect and we can walk anywhere. Comfortably. Happily. Together.
Now... was I talking about my boots or my relationships? Good question.
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