Caution: Irony Ahead

R Man and I had both agreed that the only way to make his lost pair of glasses reappear was to buy him a new pair. Fate just works that way. Besides, he hated the ones he was making do with and so we trotted off to the Eye Gotcha on Castro St. to go glasses shopping.

It’s seems sort of remarkable that there are so many of our friends who are near-sighted or need reading glasses that every time we have a party, conversation turns to optometrist stores. And not only stores in general, but Eye Gotcha in particular. Everyone goes there and everyone loves Karen, the assistant there who picks the perfect pair for you out of the overwhelming choices available and gently but firmly turns you away from those that would make you look like Dame Edna on a toot.

We wound up with these:Terribly chic from the Berlin based Mykita. They’re also very flattering on R Man, although considering the price, it seems like they should be able to double as sex toys at the very least.

And then R Man went home, looked down on the floor of his bathroom and found his old, long lost glasses. Boom, just like that. I hate irony. In our defense, I should mention the floor is black, cream and white speckeled terrazzo tiles, the perfect camouflage for anything that falls there. Trying to find pills you’ve dropped is like one of those Where’s Waldo puzzles. Next I suppose we’re going to misplace the cat in there.