The Secret to Not Wearing Socks with Shoes

Is apparently to wear tiny socks:

There are these tiny, tiny fake mini-socks. THEY ARE FOR MEN. REALLY. And I wear them all the time. 

Gee, does that mean my boyfriend has to wear them too?I mean, wtf, right?

Not like back in my youth, when I rocked the sockless shoe like no other stud before me:

Another favorite in-the-chair-theme came starting my 10th-grade year when I stopped wearing socks upon becoming a faithful wearer of LL Bean’s blucher mocs. Yes, I really was the coolest. Not only that, but even at a young age I knew that chicks would appreciate a huge, naked foot sweating straight into a mildewed non-vented leather insole more and more everyday. Hmm. Anyways. Literally, for two years every single morning of mine started out like this:

(Our young hero comes into the room, grabs the comics section of the paper and plops down in the Edith chair to my father’s Archie Master Chair. Reads for a minute.)
Dad: (lowers paper) Judith, more coffee (as he’s pulling paper up to read again, catches, out of the corner of his eye, his son’s sockless feet. Yanks paper back down, adopts horrified face that research has since proven to be similar to the face used by people upon learning of the atrocities of the Nazis.) Son...you’re not wearing socks.
Me: No. I didn’t yesterday either, when we had this same conversation.
Dad: (looking like a confused, lost puppy, utterly baffled, shouts out to my mother) Judith! Did you know about this??!!!
Mom: (unintelligible)
Dad: (staring shockingly at me) Why aren’t you wearing socks?
Me: Cause I don’t wear socks.
Dad: When did this start?
Me: oh, come on!
Dad: Judith! When did this start???!! Judith!!!
Mom: (unintellible)
Me: I don’t wear socks!! What’s the big deal?!!?!? And does nobody else care that soon the Soviet Union will repeal the Brezhnev Doctrine in favor of non-intervention in the internal affairs of its Warsaw Pact allies???!!!!
(Dad, while looking at me as if I had cut one not just at church, but at Jesus Christ’s funeral, slooooooowly raises the paper back up to read, all the while staring at me, coffuffled)

This literally happened EVERY morning for two years. Every time I rolled out sockless, it was as if it was the first time he had ever seen this. When it came to me not wearing socks, he had the memory of a goldfish; transcended only by the fact that he thought my mother and I had conspired behind his back so that I could walk outta the house with no socks on. The ultimate betrayal!!!!!!!