The Perfect Fit

In the 1993 film Being Human, Robin Williams plays four different roles—each one from a different period in history—representing four different incarnations of a single living soul. The movie isn't that great, and to be honest, I don't really remember what the point of it all was. The one thing I do remember was the main character's seemingly endless search for pair of shoes that actually fit. It never happened.

I, for one, think I'm damned to suffer the same fate. Every time I set my sights on picking up a new pair of shoes, whether it's a pair of sneakers, boots, dress shoes or sandals, I'm seemingly plagued at every turn by complete and utter failure. It never fails. Sometimes I'll find a pair I like, but they won't have my size—either because I share the same shoe size (how's that for alliteration?) with millions of other people or I'm not cut out to play college basketball and this is someone's way of letting me know. Other times I'll find a pair of shoes I like ("Yes, they have a size 10!") but realize only seconds later that a 10 isn't really a 10. In this case, a 10 is a 9 1/2. Which means I'm going to need a 10 1/2, which of course is nowhere to be found. And let's not forget the ugly pair of faux snakeskin loafers sitting next to them available in every size from 7 to 13 in 1/16 inch increments. FUCK! Safe to say, it can get pretty frustrating.

Of course, some of these problems could be avoided if I was really into shoe shopping in the first place. However, I tend to arrive after all the people with size 10 feet have ransacked the place, leaving me with little to do but try on the stylish demo models. I also have a feeling that my oddly-shaped feet play an important role in this dilemma. Unlike most people, my feet aren't exactly the same size. One is slightly larger than the other, which makes we question that whole thing about God and symmetry. Someone fucked up. Yeah, I'm talking to you up there.

Perhaps if cobbling were still a lucrative trade, things would be different. I'd have a pair of shoes that fit me and only me. Of course, I'd also be living in the 18th century, have a name like Addison Irving Cooper, and suffer from numerous venereal diseases. Damn it, it's always something...