Silflay Hraka

Annoying the Girlfriend, Part the First, an Outgrowth of Annoying the Wife, Chapter One, or, as I like to call it: The 12 dollar REVERSIBLE belt

See, women are hard to please that way. My girlfriend would have been utterly surprised and completely beside herself with joy had I purchased an $80 dollar belt that says “Trafalgar” on it for myself. (You got screwed, BTW).

Evidently, I am a lot more like my father than my elder sibling. I have this one belt. I realized that it was my only belt, never really seeing the point in having more than one belt. Sure, some people like to have a black belt to wear with any outfit that requires black shoes, and a brown belt to wear with any outfit requiring brown shoes. I, in keeping with my notions about having only one belt, never really saw the need to have more than one color of shoe. All my shoes are brown, and therefore, any outfit that I might own goes perfectly well with brown shoes. And all this assumes that I have what one might refer to as an “outfit”. I have blue jeans. Lots of blue jeans.

And then there’s the camp that likes to have ONE belt to keep their pants up and ONE belt to keep the crappy, broken-down, Samsonite suitcase shut. But that’s another story.

So, I have this one belt. It’s brown. Being much more like my male parental unit than said sibling, I also believe in keeping my one belt until it fails utterly. It is old and worn and creased, and the several layers of the belt are separating. It’s seen better days. It isn’t the kind of belt you might wear with ANYTHING that one might refer to as an “outfit”. It’s fine to wear with blue jeans, but not with outfits.

Now, I had this friend who was getting married, as friends are wont to do. Marriages usually require weddings and weddings usually require outfits and outfits require belts and the one belt that I had in my possession was not quite suitable for outfits, as we’ve already discussed. I was in a fair quandry. I was put in the hard position of having to purchase a second belt. Being much like my father, but not entirely unlike my brother, the Earl of Julian, I went to Target. Target being, of course, the Walmart for those with aspirations to a seat in the House of Lords. I don’t know exactly what Kmart is. Maybe that’s the Walmart for people with no aspirations what-so-ever.

Back to our story. I’m in Target to buy a belt. There are black belts and there are brown belts. To my surprise, there were also belts of many other hues and shades. And then I saw it. THE belt. I imagine I felt much like Percival felt when he finally won the Holy Grail. IT was bathed in a holy glory of light. Choirs of Angels sang in praise. It was black. It was brown. It was reversible. And it was only $12.00 dollars. It was perfect in every way.

Needless to say, my girlfriend breaks into fits of derisive laughter whenever I wear it. I don’t wear it anymore. Maybe I’ll wear it again when next I have occasion to wear an outfit. Maybe I’ll go to Julian’s and buy a belt with a little tag that says “Trafalgar“. Maybe next time I’ll go to Walmart.

Of course, all of this begs the question as to WHY exactly do father’s belts break? Sure they are cheap Walmart belts, but I’d bet good money that they would last a good deal longer than they do if Dad bought belts that fit him in the first place. You see, father doesn’t buy NEW belts when one has grown too large for his diminishing girth, he simply creates NEW holes in the old belt by employing the family icepick as a leather punch tool, allowing him to draw the belt ever tighter, but wreaking havoc on the cheap Walmart leather.