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The best perk of a boyfriend is the...

When I helped move Jake down to NYC a year or so ago, I took the liberty of helping him do a closet edit, which included the retiring of several pairs of jeans within his excessive denim collection. "Pile A" was the keep pile ( wearable, sized properly, no holes, mostly skinny), "Pile B" was the skate jeans (a smaller selection of moderately worn in, mostly baggy, faded and frayed meant for skate parks, painting, motorcycle repair work, etc.) and "Pile C" was the good-byes (excessive crotch-al region natural air-conditioning, lacking buttons, broken zippers, too large, too small, or just plain old and ugly). I will admit that it is much easier to closet cleanse as a third-party bystander, with no direct emotional attachment to the items being purged ("But those were my favorite high school jeans!"). Most people do tend to have a collection of jeans dating possibly farther back then any other clothing - mostly because they tend to be the least destructible of all clothes and somehow always have a way of being justifiable to keep no matter how decrepit the condition (" But I can wear them to paint in!"). newsflash - I do all the painting around here. As 'Pile C' grew higher then pile A and B combined, I could feel the tension in the room mounting, and I recognized that familiar fleck of panic in the eyes of someone losing a battle they didn’t even know they had to fight. I let a few C's slide into the B-category, but I finally drew the line, black bagging the hefty pile and hauling it out to the living room (out of sight, out of mind?) Returning, I nearly felt guilty at the look of defeat and loss, but I reminded myself it was for the greater good; New York City apartments are unforgivingly small and cramped, and do not lend themselves to collections of any kind, especially that of space-consuming denim. In a final blow, I "adopted" a pair of jeans from "Pile B" - a soft, worn in number with a few holes, several paint or grease splatters and frayed bottoms. I tucked them away to introduce to my closet, assuring thier fromer owner that I would be a faithful caretaker.

A year later, jake still looks longly at these jeans when I don them, and has even tried to persuade me to give them back. No way Jose. they are by far my favorite pair of denims. Why pay an absurd amount for phony holes and man-made distress? Afterall, the best perk of a boyfriend is the jeans.

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