I finished the socks for my BF last night, even washed and dried them (superwash wool is neat).
They are masculine grey wool with forest green heels, toes and ribbed tops. They are probably just tall enough, but might be too long in the foot. I haven't yet seen him to place them on his feet. One was done on dp bamboos, the other on metal circulars. I made no choices about if I liked working with bamboo/metal or dp/circs, but I did notice that the sock done on circs is about one inch tighter than the dps, and much neater. That is pretty drastic.
In the meantime:
I hope he likes them.
I hope he wears them.
I hope he finds them easy to care for.
(and here is where the curse sets in:)
I hope he knows how I thought of him while I made these, I worried about if he would like them, if we would be cursed by them, and if I was showing my love in wool while he would rather me show my love in other ways. Perhaps I was working on the knitting and ignoring the work on the relationship.
I hope I don't read too much into his reaction, or place too much symbolism into if he wears/likes/washes them, or if they fit correctly.
I find knitting to be a safe, controllable, mathematical escape. Maybe the "curse" is just the escape of the knitter into something she can control, something she has concrete proof of growth and progress with, something that is an act of creation and love in a place where nothing else is working. Perhaps the exact time frame of a project matches the irritation level of her recipient. Perhaps the overwhelming gravity of a knitted piece, and the expectation of an understood meaning is the last straw, the last misunderstanding of a failing relationship. Sure, many have said that the curse is just a retrospective view of an existing problem.
Perhaps I worry about the "curse" because I already feel powerless to deal with our existing problems.
I'm hoping he likes them; I'm hoping they fit.