A Whole Bunch of Mateless Socks!
They say swans mate for life. And you'll rarely see anything so pitiful as a lone swan. Pining for his lost spouse, picked off by some ruthless hunter, or worse.

Socks mate for life, too. And speaking for myself, come to respect a pair who stick together, age, and eventually wither in sync. It's a testament to teamwork. Integrity. And yes, sometimes slogging through the muddiest life has to offer - together.

Unfortunately, too often, socks don't meet their destiny as a team intact.

It's one of life's great mysteries - where all those socks go. There may be some sort of "Bermuda triangle effect" around dryers, what with all that circular motion. Or it may be that certain socks don't take "monogamy" as seriously as others.

At any rate, her I am with this basket of pitiful, abandoned mateless socks. You'd think I'd just toss them out. But no. Lone socks are nearly as pitiful as lone swans (if you have a vivid imagination.) 

I keep hoping against hope that some UFO will show up, and all those sock abductees will come wandering off, glassy-eyed and unaware of the passage of time. I preserve the widows as carefully as possible, because as everybody knows, time passes more slowly for socks experiencing high-speed space travel than socks holding the fort (or in this case, basket) on the home front.

But there comes a time when you have to cut your losses. And I believe this is that time.  My sock widows have mourned enough. They need to get a social life.

I'm hoping some of you gentle readers are of similar mind. Maybe YOUR mateless socks will take a liking to mine. I'm not expecting complete across-the-board MATCHES, but some general compatibility here and there might be nice. Socks need hope, too, you know.

Think it over. And if your sock widows seem as forlorn to you as mine do to me, let's talk.

Congratulations to the winner, who wrote:
Imagine my sheer delight upon discovering this fabulous contest while perusing your site.  Now, what's my plan for your disheartened socks?  After nursing 3 Suction Cup Kids, I have a breast-to-body ratio equivalent to (my salary)-to-(national deficit).
This is where socks come in………

One day on television I came upon an interview with the Silver Bullet vamp, Elvira.  You know the one with the cleavage just inches shy of the Grand Canyon's depth.  The shocker came when she admitted her cleavage was a phonier creation than she was.  The illusion is the result of tying socks together and hoisting the sagging sails into their previous prominence. 

Alas, I thought, heave ho these babies back to their pre-nursing grandeur.  Not that they were ever considered grand, more like little lifeboats on the side of a jetski-sized boat.  Nevertheless, I've expended countless socks attempting to duplicate that witchy-look only to douse a few eyes when the sock chain shot across the room.  My husband pitched all the socks in the house in the hope that I'll give up this battle and retreat to the kitchen bare-breasted and cooking.

Help, I need some socks!  I promise to keep them close to my heart!
-Joan

And I can't leave out some other gems I
received (No prize, though, folks. Sorry):

The reason I would like to have your pitiful basket of mate-less socks is for the purpose of offering some little bit of meaning to their forlorn and useless existence. It is my desire to start a home for widowed and abandoned footwear, a halfway house of sorts, where they can be taught new skills to enrich their empty lives and offer them new meaning and happiness. This training would develop such useful skills as sock puppetry, furniture dusting, golf club warming, etc. There are so many useful possibilities. Imagine the new zest for life these long forgotten members of the hosiery family would have by becoming a lingerie drawer sachet or a pin cushion or even the head of a homemade rag doll. Such fulfillment usually only happens in dreams (or the movies). Yes, you could say I really have a heart for these lonesome souls and it is my hope that I be given the opportunity to give back just a little bit of what I've been given. Purpose and meaning. Yes, I have a dream!
Thank You, L.

Dear Momma,
Contrary to popular belief, your socks ARE NOT widows. For years, I have believed in the Sock Monster that lives in the washing machine. This is a terrible myth created by our very own goverment! You see, goverment officials sneak into your sewer at night and crawl into the machine to steal socks. Unbelievable but true. Your socks are being taken for govt. research in which millions od dollars are being spent. So it not that your socks are sad that their mate is missing (that is part of it.) But they are so worried about that agent in the machine who is going to snag them and take them for research.
-Mitzi

Dear Mommarama....
I write to you with heavy heart. I too, know the heartbreak of
psioriasis..er...lost socks. Here is my sad story...(tissues available
for a nominal fee, please ask your usher)
scene 1, act one
enter a young boisterous fellow of six years....he is crying....
ME: "Mommy ! MOMMY ! I lost my sock!!! Now I only have one to wear to school ! And the snow is 2 feet deep !!"
(hey, we were poor)
scene 2, act 4
enter a 16 yr old boy, towheaded, with a mass of freckles. In his hand, a ragged corsage,taken from the florists dumpster...
ME: Knock Knock..The popular girl in school...
."what do YOU want, one sock boy? "
The boy turns from the door, distraught....
scene 2, act 6
Enter a bright-eyed young man of 22, into an office, a resume in his hand....
ME: "Good morning, Sir, I came to apply for the janitor's position"
BOSS: "How DARE you come into my office dressed this way? Why you have no shoes! No SOCKS!!!
ME: "But sir, there is the last ring of elastic still on, over my left
ankle"

And so it goes.....A sad tale, a moving tale. That of a young boy,
becoming a man...WITH NO SOCKS !!!
If you could find it in your heart, to bestow upon me the widowed socks you have, I would be eternally grateful. I have to go now, as the tears are staining my only t-shirt...…
Tony