In life everyone draws a bottom line of the minimum they will accept in almost every aspect of life. With employment it may be a benefits package. With our home it may be the square footage. With friends it’s a level of trust. As firm as that bottom line can be, the longer the wait the more compromise available. The bottom line of dating is no different. Many women have uttered it, “I wouldn’t date him if I were stranded on deserted island with him.” Few have actually had to live those words. While Key West is not a deserted island, the pickings can be very slim. Factor out the gay men, the tourists, the ones too young and the ones too old, and you are left with about 20 available men. Now sprinkle those 20 available men in amongst the thousands rejected and the bottom line ends up very blurred.
For a shoe girl it gets even more complicated. Date me, date my shoes—all 82 pairs of them. And I literally mean DATE my shoes: compliment them, remember them, and notice both the new ones and the vintage ones. Never question why I need 5 pairs of fire engine red heels, just know that I do and most likely will need more. Anyone can remember an eye color, but can he remember the black satin BCBG stilettos I wore on Christmas Eve 2006?
As God planned my height, I am on the shorter end of the line-up at 5’3”, which is good height for any man—even those with a Napoleon complex. As Nine West planned it, I can be a fabulous 5’9” with one slip of a boot. I tend to rely on my footwear to increase physical status in life; in an average week, my height fluctuates between two to six inches depending on the day. The muscles in the back of my legs have given up any hopes of consistency and I have grown use to earth shattering leg cramps that will wake me from a dead sleep. Seriously, if you attached a Richter Magnitude Scale to my legs the results would make the San Andreas Fault seem like child’s play.
As hard as dating can be for a shoe girl, I understand that it can be equally as hard to date a shoe girl. Not only do you have to live up to standards of a shoe girl herself, you also have to live up to the ideals of Manolo Blahnik as well. Some girls and shoes wait a lifetime for that perfect moment, the moment that they were made for. Doesn’t every girl dream of the day when her father and her dream shoes walk her down the aisle?
Just as I expect a date to consider my likes and dislikes, he must also consider the likes and dislikes of my shoes, I can assure you not all heels love strolls along the docks or on the cobble stones streets. To some a sunset cruise is romantic; to me it’s a red flag because clearly he thinks I own non-skid shoes—what kind of girl does he think I am?
Everyone comes with baggage, mine is fairly small—it only holds a cell phone, ID and lip-gloss. The real issue I have is the shoe-age and it is not so easy to store. One of my biggest relationship phobias is the sharing of closet space. I totally expect to have to… breathe… compromise on the closet matter in a relationship. I think if I loved him enough I would actually let him open the shoe closet without supervision. I am sure there is a man out there who can handle the shoe-age I bring into a relationship. I am not looking for a Cinderella moment; I would run back for that lost shoe myself, but it’s nice to think he would slide it back on.
Some may say it’s absurd to place such importance on shoes when dating can be hard enough without introducing an extra factor into the mix. Like a single mother who must consider how soon to introduce a new boyfriend to her children, a shoe girl must also protect her shoes with each new date. After all, a girl tries on many dates before settling on man to spend her golden years with. Before then, there must be many bad dates, break-ups and letdowns. It is good to know that at the end of the evening a shoe girl can go home, slip into some Jimmy Choos and spend the night with her shoe closet.
So I don’t shoe like you do, (I half shoe) but I think that dating a hair girl, like myself, can be just as trying. I didn’t like anyone asking why I need 5 brushes, 3 types of bobby pins, 2 hair sprays, numerous products from gel to pomade to wax and several heating tools. Or why should they worry or comment if I spend half an hour a day minimum on my hair. And lets not get started on the up keep of a good color job every 4 weeks. But like you all I ask in return for all this hard work is some compliments every now and again on how fantastic my hair is.