Some human males are obsessed with t-shirts. Others have a far more sinister, some might say sneaky fashion problem—that of trainers (sneakers).
Trainer wearing addiction is not only expensive but stupid. But it's every bit as destructive as developing an unstoppable heroin addiction. For when one has a £500 pair of new sneakers, one has a sense of cool hubris that one may find difficult to shake off. Innit.
Sneaking Those Sneakers Through Sneak
Dear agony aunt,
My boyfriend is a dickhead. There I said it. I've been in denial! Denial of Daniel (my boyfriend) who's 18 and a DICKHEAD! He spilled the beans to me on date night at KFC when he looked a bit coy and bashful in his hoodie and said he had an announcement. He whispered in my ear, "Babe, I have a deep and dark secret I'm ashamed about... I'm a bad boy." And I thought, "Oh god here we go, he's a pornography addict. What have I let myself in for again this time?!"
Then he said, "I'm... addicted to buying trainers..."
Then he burst into floods of tears and spent the next 20 minutes weeping uncontrollably. I wasn't sure what to do so I just got up and left him and went home. Next day he texted me calling me an "evil wench" and so I texted him back calling out his weirdness. Because he is weird! WTF?! Trainers?! If you're gonna be an addict do it with something proper like Calpol or whatever. That stuff is hyper unreal, for real.
Anyway, we went and forth with highly abusive text messages until we agreed to meet and make up. I went round to his place (he lives with his parents... so do I, what of it?!) and he showed me his trainer collection.
Shit a brick.
I mean, this was next level disturbances. He led me to the back of his family home, opened the door to the "cellar" (like, who has a cellar these days?!), and in the dark dank cellar was a separate and secret door. You know The Secret Garden? Like that. But for trainers. Then we descended this gargantuan, vast stairwell of 2,000 steps that descended at least a mile into the depths of the Earth's outer core. I was freaking out, for real, but Daniel kept saying to me, "Babe, it's just another couple of steps!" I believed his ass!
Well, eventually we got to his Trainer Room that's located deep underground like a panic bunker. This thing can withstand 100 atom bombs and has his collection of 400 trainers all there, brand spanking new, with the price tag still on them and everything. He stood there beaming at me in this 20ft by 20ft room and said, "Hot stuff huh, babe?"
Later that night, while laying in bed, having returned silently to the surface, I thought to myself... should I marry this dweeb?
What do you think?
Yours,
Annabelle
Hi there, Annabelle! You're a bit vague on some of those disturbing happenings... how does this guy have a secret sneaker bunker one mile into the Earth's core?! That's very sneaky...
However, it's not unusual (and we don't mean that stupid Tom Jones song) to have an interest in trainers. Like that Tom Jones song goes, it's not unusual to be in love with anyone with an incredibly expensive trainer buying habit.
The question is whether you want to commit to Daniel and his weirdo underground labyrinth.
It's kind of a red flag if some guy you're dating has a doorway into the neverworld. On your next date at KFC perhaps question him as to how this came to be. If he skips over your questions then, just maybe, you should find yourself a new man. One with a normal problem—such as being a far-right lunatic who likes smashing stuff up. Those sorts are the true hidden gems you're missing out on.
Best of luck, love!
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