The Importance of Socks in Marriage

Published September 12, 1985. It seems that every marriage goes through transitions. Periods where you know things are now different than they have been in the past. We went through a transition not long ago. There was a definite moment when I knew our marriage had changed.

I came home late from work and had another appointment an hour later. I had to take a shower and change my clothes.

As I stepped out of the shower, I called, “Susan, do I have any clean socks?”

“Yes, Brent, you do,” she replied. After a short pause she asked, “Does it matter if they match?”

The question overwhelmed me. It was at that precise moment that our marriage went through a transition. Does it really matter if a husband has matched socks? After considerable deliberation I answered, “No, honey, it really doesn’t matter. No one really notices anyway.”

Then I started thinking. The importance of socks in contemporary marriage is underestimated. How many husbands, nationwide, have felt unloved or uncared for because they return at the end of the day to find, not necessarily an empty house, nor empty arms, but an empty sock drawer?

As I was drying off. I continued thinking, out loud. “I’m no wimpy husband. I’m a contemporary liberated male who can take care of his own socks.” I conveyed my intentions to Susan upon leaving the house. She raised her eyebrow, but said nothing. She didn’t need to.

I returned home that evening and began my sock project. But I ran into my first major problem. I couldn’t find mates to many of my stockings. I conveyed my dilemma to Susan. She asked where I had been the past twenty years of our marriage.

After an hour I was not doing too well, so I asked my twelve-year-old son Jon to help me match my socks. He agreed. My pride would not allow me to ask Susan or our teenagers to assist.

Jon and I eventually got through my pile of socks. But Jon’s pile of my socks was larger, and I had several left over. I asked him why? He said, with all the wisdom of a twelve-year-old. “When you mate socks. Dad, you don’t have to match them exactly, they just have to be close.”

A few weeks ago I was asked to speak to a group of several hundred people about marriage. I was nervous while being introduced and so indicated to Susan, who was sitting beside me on the stand.

As they were finishing the introduction she leaned over and said, “Brent . . .” What words of wisdom, comfort or solace would she have for a nervous husband?

“Brent,” she again whispered, “your socks don’t match.”

I glanced down and sure enough, they didn’t.

But then I remembered the insights of a twelve-year-old and replied as they concluded the introduction, “You’re right, they don’t match . . . but they’re close.”

With that I stood up and delivered my speech titled “Contemporary Marriage in the United States.” I though it went quiet well. It may not have been 100 percent accurate. But it was close.