Why I live alone.
I'm out this Friday afternoon on a date. What do women like to do? Based on my empirical observations, they want to shop for shoes. So, testicles first, I'm lead into the Aldo shoe shop, gay sales-creature and all. **Author's side note, guys get approached by hot sales women, girls, by homosexual salesmen. And by homosexual I mean better looking them me.
Back to the story. She tries on a pair of shoes, demonstrates, struts, I'm playing old hockey highlights in my head. When pried into divulging my opinion on the subject at foot, I, in my n-finite wisdom, reply, "Great looking shoes, a very hot look on you, and in excellent taste." Or something rectalingual like that. And by doing thus I score a point, which is to be redeemed later at night. I had experiments planned for comparing relative uses of polyurethane vs. latex. I excuse myself to walk around and look at men's price tags, which, given the state of my bank account, takes me approximately fifteen seconds. Then I turn around, and the girl just finished putting on a pair of pumps, gets up and faces me.
At this point, perhaps inspired by my earlier success, I decide to demonstrate my taste in feminine footwear. "These once I don't quite like, nope, let's try something else." All of a sudden, I detect an area of low pressure forming, as ice crystals begin to germinate into icicles. "These are the shoes I came in with."
[ed - a bit edited to protect the participants]
from our CA correspondent.
ps. A reader asks, "have you a first hand opinion on "polyurethane vs. latex" debate?"