Yesterday, I had one of those moments when you look at your life, let out a deep sigh of relief, and say "Thank God I'm married and don't have to deal with this singles s&*t."
My friend's cousin met a guy on vacation and the relationship continued when they returned home. She asked him if he had a friend for her cousin. He did. Soon after, my friend received a call. All was going well on the phone--for the first few minutes anyway--when he suddenly asked "What size shoe do you wear?"
Having heard this question only as it related to men (and usually there was some rib-jabbing and winking as accompaniment), I was intrigued to hear where this was going.
My friend was speechless for a moment and then asked why her shoe size mattered? The answer . . .
He's not attracted to women with big feet.
Say what? How many big-footed women has this guy encountered that this has become his lead-off question? Has someone gotten the word out to Manolo?
Hmmm, wasn't there a Jerry Springer show a few years back . . . GUYS WHO DON'T REALIZE THEIR QUEENS ARE OF THE DRAG VARIETY?
Maybe there were some childhood issues . . . that day back in 1978 when he left the marbles from his Hungry Hippo Game strewn all over the floor and his large-footed mother took out her rage with the help of her Tecnica Moon Boots.
Whatever the reason for his question, I was left wondering if big feet were the only deal breaker for this guy. My evil twin would have played a bit--talked up my tiny, dainty feet. Then, just before our first date, I would have stopped at Ruby's Costume Store to pick up a few blacked-out teeth, the beginnings of a goatee, and ears that should have been pinned back in childhood.
With my luck, it would have been love at first sight.
And that's why I'm glad I'm no longer eligible to compete in the love games.
My friend's cousin met a guy on vacation and the relationship continued when they returned home. She asked him if he had a friend for her cousin. He did. Soon after, my friend received a call. All was going well on the phone--for the first few minutes anyway--when he suddenly asked "What size shoe do you wear?"
Having heard this question only as it related to men (and usually there was some rib-jabbing and winking as accompaniment), I was intrigued to hear where this was going.
My friend was speechless for a moment and then asked why her shoe size mattered? The answer . . .
He's not attracted to women with big feet.
Say what? How many big-footed women has this guy encountered that this has become his lead-off question? Has someone gotten the word out to Manolo?
Hmmm, wasn't there a Jerry Springer show a few years back . . . GUYS WHO DON'T REALIZE THEIR QUEENS ARE OF THE DRAG VARIETY?
Maybe there were some childhood issues . . . that day back in 1978 when he left the marbles from his Hungry Hippo Game strewn all over the floor and his large-footed mother took out her rage with the help of her Tecnica Moon Boots.
Whatever the reason for his question, I was left wondering if big feet were the only deal breaker for this guy. My evil twin would have played a bit--talked up my tiny, dainty feet. Then, just before our first date, I would have stopped at Ruby's Costume Store to pick up a few blacked-out teeth, the beginnings of a goatee, and ears that should have been pinned back in childhood.
With my luck, it would have been love at first sight.
And that's why I'm glad I'm no longer eligible to compete in the love games.
1 comment:
Yes, Big feet can be a deal breaker. Look at it this way, Big feet usually go with tall people. Now it’s one thing if your girl is taller than you but when her feet are bigger. There’s the shoe thing. She goes out to buy a pair of shoes, you get dragged along, “ do you have these in a size 11.” “I’m sorry we don’t stock that size.” and there you go off to another shoe place for more of the same. You could be out playing golf by now BUT NO. the sun will have set by the time she finds anything, if she finds anything.
And you will spend your sunday doing the same just to please her. To much F-in work and that’s where you end up it’s Monday morning and your back at work. NO Golf, no beer drinkin with the boys at the clubhouse. Just shoe store disappointments.
Well that’s just a start, I could go on, but won’t.
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