We were so happy together. Our relationship brief but intense. We’d go out dancing until all hours or just lounge around drinking coffee.

We were so happy together, or so I thought. But today. Today the whole relationship ended, and it ended badly. And suddenly. I still don’t understand how it happened.

I was with a large group of fellow geeks this morning, happily watching the Matrix Reloaded. Yes, the lot of us did in fact take up a whole row. Halfway through the movie the poking started.

It was annoying, but I could ignore it. I should have seen the writing on the wall, but I managed to maintain a state of denial for a while. Then the pinching began. Persistent, annoying. I would go so far as to call it malevolent, that pinching.

In the back of my mind I knew that as soon as I got home, the relationship was over. It’s hard to drool over Carrie Ann Moss’s lovely ass when you’re aware, at least on a subconcious level, that you’re going to have an ugly little bruise on your breast by the time you leave.

This bra was a miracle of modern engineering. So sleek, so black, so perfect under spaghetti straps, yet cotton. Those of you who prefer black undergarments can understand why this is such a Happy Thing.

I’ve always harbored the fear that it was made by half-blind children in a sweatshop in Sri Lanka, or possibly by violent sex offender’s in the Washington State Prison system. I have to admit I never checked, if it had a checkered past I just didn’t want to know.

It was just such a good bra, how could it go so bad?

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