Comfortable Shoes
M and R flew out to Michigan last week from NYC. During dinner, we talked about stereotypes, and M mentioned the stereotype about lesbians and comfortable shoes. I said, "what do you mean?" She went on to explain that a lot of people associate lesbians with comfortable shoes because a high percentage of lesbians are feminists, and feminists often refuse to be burdened by high heeled shoes, or other uncomfortable clothing for the sake of fashion. I hadn't heard that before, but I was willing to admit that it made some sense, if not complete sense. After all, we were talking about stereotypes.
I thought about women who wear comfortable shoes. M wears comfortable shoes. I think she said that people assume she's a lesbian. She's not, and as far as I can tell, she has a happy, heterosexual household with R. I like M a lot, because she's ... real. I think this is one of the reasons she prefers comfy shoes. I can't imagine her walking around in heels. I've decided I really appreciate women who wear comfortable shoes. I'm not dissin' the ladies who wear heels; I'm just saying that I really appreciate a woman who can find a fashionable or stylish pair of truly comfortable shoes. To me, that's a sign of being well grounded.
Today, I sat in my favorite coffee shop and read the newspaper. There were two women sitting nearby, but they weren't sitting together. One woman kept getting up from her table and walking past my table. She had on high heels, and they were loud and her footsteps made my table shake. She got up a bunch of times within the span of ten minutes, and it was driving me crazy. She seemed agitated, and there was something different about her. I couldn't put my finger on it. She was sort of pretty, but I found her features a little distasteful or something. It's difficult to explain. Anyway, the third time she got up, I was really curious about her. Why was she stomping around in those heels like that? And why was she pretty, but ... not pretty? Then I saw the adam's apple. I'm about 95% sure it was a dude. Yeah, some dude was stomping around in heels, breaking my concentration as I tried to read.
The other woman sat quietly reading a book. She was really pretty, and had a cool haircut. Kinda artsy, but not exactly alternative or flamboyant. She was reading the book pretty intently, and then she'd sort of look up and think for a couple of seconds. I do that too; I think about the passage after I read it. I tried to see what book it was, but I couldn't see the cover. I also couldn't see her feet. Yeah, I started to wonder what sort of shoes she was wearing. Were they comfortable? Or were they heels? I had a feeling they were comfortable.
I had about a million empty sugar packets on my table (you know me ... I like a little tea with my sugar), so throwing them away was the perfect opportunity to get a glimpse of those feet. Like a true professional, I gathered the empty packets in my hand, stood up, and casually walked over to the trash can. On the way back, I got a good, long look at her feet.
Comfortable shoes. Totally comfortable. And stylish.
That's hot.
A few minutes later, she got up and started putting on her coat. As she was walking past me, I said "Ms., what's that book you were reading?" She smiled.
Comfy shoes: "It's a collection of short stories by Tolstoy. They're actually pretty long stories."
Me: "Are they good?"
Comfy shoes: "Oh yeah. I love them. Have you heard of Tolstoy?"
Me: "Yeah, but I haven't read him."
Comfy shoes: "I'm taking a Russian lit class, and it's really good. We read Dostoevsky too."
Me: "I'm reading The Brothers Karamazov now. But I can't finish it. I always feel like I need to take a break from it, and pick it up in a month."
Comfy shoes: "Yeah, it's pretty involved. But you should read Tolstoy's stuff."
We said a couple of other things, but I could tell she had to go, and I wasn't trying to be the annoying guy in the coffee shop who keeps chatting when you don't want to chat. I've met a few of those, and pretty women meet them all the time; I wasn't going to allow myself to become a statistic. So I said, as pleasantly as I could, "Okay. Thanks." Comfy shoes smiled, waved, and said she'd see me around.
I thought about women who wear comfortable shoes. M wears comfortable shoes. I think she said that people assume she's a lesbian. She's not, and as far as I can tell, she has a happy, heterosexual household with R. I like M a lot, because she's ... real. I think this is one of the reasons she prefers comfy shoes. I can't imagine her walking around in heels. I've decided I really appreciate women who wear comfortable shoes. I'm not dissin' the ladies who wear heels; I'm just saying that I really appreciate a woman who can find a fashionable or stylish pair of truly comfortable shoes. To me, that's a sign of being well grounded.
Today, I sat in my favorite coffee shop and read the newspaper. There were two women sitting nearby, but they weren't sitting together. One woman kept getting up from her table and walking past my table. She had on high heels, and they were loud and her footsteps made my table shake. She got up a bunch of times within the span of ten minutes, and it was driving me crazy. She seemed agitated, and there was something different about her. I couldn't put my finger on it. She was sort of pretty, but I found her features a little distasteful or something. It's difficult to explain. Anyway, the third time she got up, I was really curious about her. Why was she stomping around in those heels like that? And why was she pretty, but ... not pretty? Then I saw the adam's apple. I'm about 95% sure it was a dude. Yeah, some dude was stomping around in heels, breaking my concentration as I tried to read.
The other woman sat quietly reading a book. She was really pretty, and had a cool haircut. Kinda artsy, but not exactly alternative or flamboyant. She was reading the book pretty intently, and then she'd sort of look up and think for a couple of seconds. I do that too; I think about the passage after I read it. I tried to see what book it was, but I couldn't see the cover. I also couldn't see her feet. Yeah, I started to wonder what sort of shoes she was wearing. Were they comfortable? Or were they heels? I had a feeling they were comfortable.
I had about a million empty sugar packets on my table (you know me ... I like a little tea with my sugar), so throwing them away was the perfect opportunity to get a glimpse of those feet. Like a true professional, I gathered the empty packets in my hand, stood up, and casually walked over to the trash can. On the way back, I got a good, long look at her feet.
Comfortable shoes. Totally comfortable. And stylish.
That's hot.
A few minutes later, she got up and started putting on her coat. As she was walking past me, I said "Ms., what's that book you were reading?" She smiled.
Comfy shoes: "It's a collection of short stories by Tolstoy. They're actually pretty long stories."
Me: "Are they good?"
Comfy shoes: "Oh yeah. I love them. Have you heard of Tolstoy?"
Me: "Yeah, but I haven't read him."
Comfy shoes: "I'm taking a Russian lit class, and it's really good. We read Dostoevsky too."
Me: "I'm reading The Brothers Karamazov now. But I can't finish it. I always feel like I need to take a break from it, and pick it up in a month."
Comfy shoes: "Yeah, it's pretty involved. But you should read Tolstoy's stuff."
We said a couple of other things, but I could tell she had to go, and I wasn't trying to be the annoying guy in the coffee shop who keeps chatting when you don't want to chat. I've met a few of those, and pretty women meet them all the time; I wasn't going to allow myself to become a statistic. So I said, as pleasantly as I could, "Okay. Thanks." Comfy shoes smiled, waved, and said she'd see me around.
posted by Wordsmyth at
6:09 PM
2 Comments:
wow. that's the nicest compliment I've received all week. thanks. I hope you visit my blog again.
anson,
i have to agree--i enjoyed this post a lot, but your posts are almost always interesting and well-thought out. thanks!
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