March 4th, 2011
Save the Date: In Short, I’m Torn
I suppose I’m getting too old to hang onto the insanely high standards of my youth, but there are still some things I don’t think I can get over. Of course there’s the obvious: psychos, felons, boys who still live with mommy, the serially unemployed, sexual deviants, and alcoholics need not apply. But I recently met a guy who had most of the good qualities: cute, smart, funny, normal, chivalrous—good job. He even has my same twisted sense of humor, and that’s rare. There’s just one thing. He’s an inch shorter than me. I suppose this would be less of a problem if 98% of my shoes weren’t four inch heels. Net height difference – five inches.
Sure, I could ditch the hot, sexy heels and wear flats. But that’s not going to happen. I mean, this is me. And my shoes. Four inch stilettos add a certain swagger to my walk. It’s been commented on. You can’t take that away from me. You can’t. These are shoes. My shoes. 87 beautiful pair of stilettos. All mine. No, I don’t have a problem.
Back to the five inch dilemma at hand. Recently we went out and had an amazing time. We went to dinner so, of course, we were seated. He’s an amazing guy sitting at a table, but a girl needs to feel safe. If I’m towering over a guy, it’s hard to feel that way. It’s like dating a kid. Which then makes me feel like a person who dates kids. That’s disgusting, and wrong. And then I feel horrible for even thinking such terrible things. It’s a circle of death. I’m stuck-up and sick and wrong and will never give up my four inch heels as long as I can still wear them. But there’s this great guy who has one little flaw. Littleness. And then I start thinking about how little people have to deal with the snobbery of us tall people. My mind then wanders to this poor guy in a booster seat at a restaurant and I immediately fall into a fit of tears and laughter. God, I’m a bitch.
In order to redeem myself, I went shoe shopping today. I picked up a few flats and tried them on. Took a few steps. It wasn’t the same. Flats aren’t sexy. I settled on a pair of two inch snakeskin heels. The snakeskin counter-balanced the fact that there were two inches missing from the heel.
Is this guy worth a shoe overhaul? He’s definitely a much better guy than the others I’ve met this year, but does that mean I should settle? Where’s my 6 foot + amazing guy? Hell, I’ll even compromise on 5’10”. Then we’d be the same height in my favorite Betsey Johnson heels…