Missed Opportunity

I have been handed a golden opportunity to buy some jeans with a ton of shit on the pockets, and instead of grasping the moment, I've stood idly by with my dick in my hand as bolder men understood full well that they had a chance to become a party of history, rather than watch it happen. Today I realized the ship has officially sailed. I can't go out and buy a pair of jeans today with a dragon on the pocket and pretend like I've been on the trend since inception. I just can't--they'll all know I'm a poseur. It has come full circle when you are in line at a lunch spot and you see several guys with dry-cleaned dress shirts tucked into pockets with a giant cursive "R" and metallic studs, or colorful dragons, and sometimes flap pockets with snaps. You sit there with your bullshit ass jeans totally devoid of pocket artwork and know that you are watching life as they are living it. And it makes you sad. On your deathbed you will not be able to smile as you recall the time you walked into that house party with your hair blown the fuck out and your multi-colored wave design back denim pockets POPPIN'. You will never know the confidence that comes from crushing Jager bombs with stitched horseshoes larger than your hand emblazoned on your ass. When a woman you've just had anonymous sex with looks at her bedroom floor and sees your pathetic jeans with maybe one measly stripe of same-colored lameness across the pockets, she'll know that just like in her pursuit to make her father proud just one single, solitary fucking time in her life...she's once again failed. Because in life there are great men with a Fleur-de-lis or crossed pistols and roses on their jean pockets. But under these great men there must always be meek, spineless men like me with pockets of indistinction. It makes me weep for my family. They deserve better.