The DKNY Dress

My oftentimes doppelganger and unabashed inspiration Carrie Bradshaw said something in the Season 1 episode “Bay of Married Pigs” that resonated with me now more so than ever:

“He was like the flesh and blood equivalent of a DKNY dress: you know it’s not your style but it’s right there, so you try it on anyway”.

She was referencing a guy she had been seeing casually who was very into her, and more than ready to make it official. Carrie knew he wasn’t the one for her, but if the dress is right there, it’s on sale, and you’ve already been to 20+ stores within the last year or so trying things on, sometimes you just want to walk out in it… If you know what I mean.

You see, I’m in a bit of a DKNY dress situation myself, and while I know I should take it back to the store still pristine, rather than inevitably return it stained and stretched, what’s a girl to do when she’s got nothing else to wear?

But here’s the thing- for how long can I treat someone like a piece of the week when they are gearing up for long time wear?

The first time we got dinner he had that “you could be the one” look in his eyes. The look I’ve wanted to see each time I looked up from a wineglass in a dimly lit restaurant, or even as I looked up from a shot glass in a red-tinted bar.  He looked at me with adoration versus appetite and would sooner grab my hand under the table than my thigh.

He asked me about my writing, and when we were walking through Central Park the morning after our second or third date, he remembered my black lab’s name was Max.

When I woke up in his bed in lacy black underwear and opted for going on a tangent about the difference between “big D Discourse” and “little d discourse” from a rhetorical perspective, rather than making pillowtalk, he stared up at the ceiling with me and simply said, “you’re really smart, do you know that?”

His affections toward me withstood my evil, bipolar and mean-spirited inclinations not once, but twice after I’d had too much to drink, and he would forgive me after I turned arrogant, cold and removed.

The problem was that while I was admittedly enjoying our time together, (just because you plan to return something doesn’t mean you shouldn’t at least wear it to a few functions), I could tell my one and done ideas about our relationship weren’t at all aligned with his.

While we never spoke about what we “were” or where we’d go, he’d say things to me that implied being together and would look at me in a way that said more than enough.

Laying there at 7:44 a.m. on a Sunday I felt him kiss my cheek repeatedly while I silently and indifferently refreshed my Instagram app.

Somewhere in between that moment and banana pancakes later that day I knew that while the dress I had found did look good on me, it would absolutely look better on someone else.


One thought on “The DKNY Dress

  1. Self absorbed and self loathing wannabe Carrie Bradshaw millennial objectifies a man in the form of a commodity in a way that would be reprehensible if a man did, but that is okay becauSe men have done it so long, writes a less than thousand word (600?) blog entry that does absolutely no work and makes no effort to craft any sort of meaning from the personal experience offered, and instead relies on the lame, over done, over wrought tone of a disaffected youth, in the voice of a woman who probably is or should be offended by bret Easton Ellis (if she’s has the misfortune of reading The rules of attraction) but who mimics it nonetheless in a weaker, less artistic, less rendered, lazier mode, in the service of an artistic effort fated to be nothing more than a soon to be discarded monument to the author’s own ego and it’s fragility


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