Tearaways and The Texas Tango


Remember tearaway pants?

They were all the rage when I was in middle-school. Every kid wanted a pair. Anyone who got one was the immediate envy of the playground. They would be the coolest thing in pant innovation up until the convertible cargos…pants you could strip away in one quick motion to reveal you were gym-class ready with your shorts underneath.

Of course, they weren’t exactly practical. You had to wear a second pair of pants under them.

A) Because that was the whole point.
B) Without a second pair, you left yourself wide open to pranksters. (Of course, it didn’t real matter, they would still pull the rip-and-run).

This wasn’t the most comfortable get-up. It was awkward, hot, and bulky…BUT it was all worth it to show off your speedy changing abilities.

My family was on the thriftier side. Not because we didn’t have money, but more because my parents were money-conscience and never saw the need for frivolous brand-name spending. It took me a whole school year to convince them I NEEDED a pair. Even when I finally succeeded, I had some weird off-brand instead of ADIDAS or the ever coveted Champion brand.

It didn’t matter.

I was in the cool-pant clique.


I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately.

There have been small reminders everywhere. Unlike in the past, I haven’t been able to avoid them. However, nowadays, it’s not hard to dismiss them.

I’m finally happy, and my assumption is that you are as well. I may have taken a little bit longer to get there, but I feel we are both finally in the headspace we tried so hard to create for each other. Did we impede each other, or were we necessary obstacles? A lesson to be learned about love and life? Was it more work than was practical to get to something that would end so quickly? What compelled us to believe the constant dance of “on-again” “off-again” was so rewarding?

Sometimes I wonder if everything was real. Maybe we were just delusions of a life we wanted to create. I can’t lie, the idea that I could tell people that I had a gal (even if she was miles away) felt like a badge of honour. Were we just social status symbols, or was there something more?

Of course, this is a pessimistic view of things.

Whatever it was we had, it was what I felt love was at that juncture in time. We created a narrative, stories which will always live in my head and in my heart. We ended up growing up and out of those tales though. We’re writing new ones with different people now, more compelling and structured than what we could accomplish together.

Still, I can’t shake this feeling. Was it all just a phase?

Were we just the flavours of the moment, destined to be grown out of?


My newfound “coolness” didn’t last long.

For one, the off-brand I had didn’t snap off very efficiently. They were more frustrating than gratifying. Even when I finally made it to high school, got a job, and was able to afford the Holy Grail of tearaways (Champions), it felt like a hollow victory. They weren’t “cool” anymore, and their practicality had reached a low point.

So, like many other phases of my life, I tore them away one last time…

Never to be revisited.



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