Where are they now? (Pants Edition)

A while ago I wrote a post about a pair of skinny jeans. It’s by far the most emotionally charged post I’ve written, and is up there as far as most viewed articles I’ve written.

In said post I described how my enlarging buttocks put enough pressure on my wallet to start a hole in the right rear pocket.

I then rejoiced after losing weight and being able to wear those pants again.

The jeans were then retired, because they were TOO big (again, time for celebration).

I’m happy to say they have now been put back into rotation (not because I put weight back on either).

When I bought Race St a couple of months ago I needed a pair of jeans to wear that I didn’t care about…demolition jeans if you will. I immediately thought of the skinny jeans, and I pulled them back out of the closet. They fit loose enough that it gives me the flexibility I need to hop in and out of windows and the various other random things I do while trying to fix this place up.

And even though I have a tool belt, sometimes it’s just easier to use that back pocket.

Every once in a while I catch myself thinking about what led me to this point. I see those frayed pieces of cotton hanging from the back pocket and I see a little bit of myself in them. When I bought those jeans I thought I was the king of the world. I had a great girlfriend I thought I was going to marry and no long term aspirations to stay in Cincinnati–I was just here for a reasonably good job while she finished school. I would have laughed in your face if you told me I would be 25 and single, gutting and remodeling my own house across the street from Findlay Market.

Yet here I am, May 28 2010, working on my first home. The jeans are still with me, but I’m not sure much about me is the same as it was when I purchased them. I’ve managed to break a couple more hearts since then–trust me I’m not bragging–I’ve certainly put my own corazón through the ringer a few times. I feel like I’ve been waiting years to get back to who I was, or as a great song I love quotes “To say this is the way that I used to be.” What I’m realizing is that I probably won’t ever be the same guy again, not totally. You take the good with the bad right? I’m no longer a fresh-out-of-college naive kid…I’m a 3-years-out-of-college naive adult(?). I wouldn’t say I’ve lost the fun loving spark that I had back then…it’s just that the spark fires a little differently these days.

All this should be expected right? I wasn’t the same at person 21 that I was at 18, so why would I be the same person at 25 that I was at 22?

I guess from 18 to 21, you feel like you are supposed to grow up, but by 22 I felt grown. I was out on my own, living and breathing the “real” world….except I forgot that it doesn’t stop there. No, the changes in your life just get bigger as the choices become more important. That’s a lesson I suspect I will be learning for the rest of my life.

I know one day those parts of my life that feel like the tattered strands of back pocket will make sense–they’ll show themselves to be there for a reason–like making space for a necessary tool to move forward with my life.

[Editor's Note: Despite the tone this takes at the end, I couldn't be happier with the way things are going for me right now. It's not all crystal clear, but I'm rolling with it.]