A metaphor for life

I hate clothes shopping. I really do. It's time consuming, vacuous, and you can never find what you're looking for. Sometimes though, sometimes when you aren't looking, something catches your eye. Something beautiful, truly special. Invariably, it's out of your price range, and the sensible thing to do is just assume it won't suit you and walk on by. But sometimes... sometimes you convince yourself that you need to try it on and prove to yourself that it doesn't suit you, smother the ideal in the ugly reality. And often, it works. But sometimes... Sometimes you find yourself stood in the perfect dress, top, whatever. And now you're attached. You really like it. It withstood the test designed to eliminate the chaff. And you stand there. Unwilling to take it off. Unable to buy it. It is not yours, it never will be, and you've denied yourself the chance of imagining that it wasn't mean to be, that it wouldn't suit you, because you tried it, and you've never before found such a perfect fit. You contemplate your precarious bank balance. You change, and walk away. The sun shines brightly. You get on with your day, unable to shake the impression that you've made a mistake. Let's face it, you probably have.