I’m Wearing Only the Finest of Cargo Shorts for This Date


It’s my first date in five years, and I’ve got to impress. That means I’ll actually have to brush my hair this time, and make the wings subtler. That means I can’t wear any of my sick T-shirts; the “There are 10 people in this world: those who understand binary and those who don’t” shirt, nor the tuxedo with a rose in a pocket square shirt, nor even the sick Average Joe’s T-shirt from the Dodgeball DVD are acceptable for this date. Polo shirt, or bust.

Furthermore, I am restricting myself from hats, wristbands, sweatbands, and bandannas for this one. I’m not trying to pick up some chick at a music festival this time: it’s a lunch date. And I’m paying. So I best not be paying with bad fashion. That means I can’t be wearing those white Puma socks you can get at bulk at Costco. Nope, fancy black socks are a must. And, to go along with that, some nice shoes. My beat up New Balances will tip the balance out of favor, I must wear my slick black Vans, no matter how uncomfortable. For she might be uncomfortable with the lack of style otherwise.

Finally, the most important clothing: what goes around the waist? Soccer shorts don’t have pockets nor style when it comes to higher-class dating. I will not be able to carry my wallet nor a conversation with those. Long pants will look like I’m trying too hard, this is simply a first date: we must be casual. That means there’s only one choice: I must wear only the finest of cargo shorts for this date.

About pungry

Making strained metaphors funny.
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One Response to I’m Wearing Only the Finest of Cargo Shorts for This Date

  1. Excellent post, Colleague!

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