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The Scruffy and the Soshes

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Me at the Living Desert in the Coachella Valley 2022

There are two types of guys in this world (now where have you heard that before?)—the scruffy and the soshes (pronounced sōsh-es). I am clearly among the scruffy, though you will not find me wearing T-shirts, shorts, or flip-flops in public. Also: No tattoos. I guess that makes me a middling scruffy guy.

I have never been a fashion plate. In fact, I have looked down on guys that were. To me, they were soshes: People who were self-conscious about their appearance and, at the same time looked down on people like me, who just didn’t care.

As a retired senior on a fixed income, I have a clothes budget that approaches zero. Some of my shirts and pants are older than many of my acquaintances.

If I had the money, I would probably wear pants that would fit me better, what with my short legs and pot belly, but I would still avoid anything that would smack of GQ or Country Club. At this point in my life, who am I trying to impress? Do I have any possible future as a chick magnet at age 79? Would I even want to? These are important questions as I age.

Fortunately, I feel comfortable in my own skin, even if that skin at times resembles the lunar surface.

Sosh

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This Picture Describes Succinctly What I Am NOT!

I used to work at Urban Decision Systems with a Vice President named Jay W. McBride, whom I liked and respected. Once, when I complained about another VP, Jay said that he was a “sosh,” pronounced like the beginning of the word “social.” As Jay was a lifelong Mormon, I wondered if this was a term used in his background to describe people who were essentially social butterflies.

One thing I am not is a sosh. That’s why I did not find the Covid-19 quarantine particularly onerous. I made a point to contact my friends regularly over the phone, but I did not attend any super-spreader events frequented by people who could not stay away from large groupings of their social cohort.

By now, I and most of my friends have been vaccinated. (Martine continues to be a holdout, but, like me, she’s not a sosh.) I have visited with my good friends from San Pedro and Altadena, and look forward to re-establishing several other connections.

But will I ever attend a large party? Perhaps. If I do, I will probably arrive late and leave early, as is my wont. I derive little pleasure from talking in person to many people, particularly if they are strangers.