So, picture it...you love your shoes. You may be male, or female (in particular), but somewhere in your life you realized that buying shoes made you feel great. There are endless varieties to pick from, and there's something about the perfect shoe that just clinches a look, and thusly a feeling. When you know you're turned out, you have an extra hop in your step, people see the confidence and they respect you for it. The sun shines a little brighter, the birds sound a little more harmonic...ahh the prospect of a beautiful day that a pair of shoes can bring. As you grow you also realize that to some extent, "shoes make the man", a style is also a persona that you try on. You buy birkenstocks when you decide that you're going to run away to burning man the first chance you get, you buy boots for winter and rain, flats to feel like audrey, heels to feel like Marilyn, and everything in between. You love your shoes.
--but wait!--
One day your parents sit you down and tell you that at a certain time in your life to be determined by yourself (you'll know when it's right) you will have to give up every pair of shoes you have ever owned. Every shoe you've tried on and worn and loved cannot be kept. Naturally throughout your life you'll try on as many shoes as you possibly can in anticipation of this day. As you get older and closer to that "age" you might even go on a shoe buying or trying on frenzy. You have nightmares about it, horrible nightmares where you remember a pair from long ago, mourn its passing only to realize that it's still there in your closet -- for the time being. Your parents try to comfort you and tell you that you won't have to be shoeless...oh no that would be too cruel. You can pick one pair, and only one, to wear for the rest of your life...it doesn't have to be a pair you've owned, but it's better that you try them on for a while first. There is one, small caveat, don't choose a pair too late, or else you'll be bound to barefootedness forever. You put it out of your head when you're still young, but every time you think of the inescabable reality, you shiver with trepidation at the loss of your freedom to choose from a variety of shoes.
As you get older you start to think about what kind of shoes would be best for the long haul. Something with comfortable durability that will have faded looks after a while or maybe an old favorite whose looks have already faded so there are few surprises. But maybe a great looking pair, I mean go big or go home right? They might pinch your feet, maybe they'll never be comfortable but man will they make you feel good walking down the street...you think about older pairs and how they compare to newer ones. You think of digging out old ones, or wish you hadn't sold some in a yard sale years ago (they were hardly used)...finally the time comes and you know it. And since you've waited until the last minute and are more afraid of barefootedness than having only one pair, you decide to just love the ones you're with. Over time, hopefully they grow on you in a way you couldn't have concieved when you picked them, and if you're lucky you come to think that this pair was meant for you.
Ladies and gentlemen, this is how most straight men think about vaginas (except for the part about yard sales, obviously you can't sell vaginas at yard sales, it's allegorical)*
*If you're a woman and have a problem being compared to shoes, I suggest you start a blog and write an entertaining yet articulate refutation.
--but wait!--
One day your parents sit you down and tell you that at a certain time in your life to be determined by yourself (you'll know when it's right) you will have to give up every pair of shoes you have ever owned. Every shoe you've tried on and worn and loved cannot be kept. Naturally throughout your life you'll try on as many shoes as you possibly can in anticipation of this day. As you get older and closer to that "age" you might even go on a shoe buying or trying on frenzy. You have nightmares about it, horrible nightmares where you remember a pair from long ago, mourn its passing only to realize that it's still there in your closet -- for the time being. Your parents try to comfort you and tell you that you won't have to be shoeless...oh no that would be too cruel. You can pick one pair, and only one, to wear for the rest of your life...it doesn't have to be a pair you've owned, but it's better that you try them on for a while first. There is one, small caveat, don't choose a pair too late, or else you'll be bound to barefootedness forever. You put it out of your head when you're still young, but every time you think of the inescabable reality, you shiver with trepidation at the loss of your freedom to choose from a variety of shoes.
As you get older you start to think about what kind of shoes would be best for the long haul. Something with comfortable durability that will have faded looks after a while or maybe an old favorite whose looks have already faded so there are few surprises. But maybe a great looking pair, I mean go big or go home right? They might pinch your feet, maybe they'll never be comfortable but man will they make you feel good walking down the street...you think about older pairs and how they compare to newer ones. You think of digging out old ones, or wish you hadn't sold some in a yard sale years ago (they were hardly used)...finally the time comes and you know it. And since you've waited until the last minute and are more afraid of barefootedness than having only one pair, you decide to just love the ones you're with. Over time, hopefully they grow on you in a way you couldn't have concieved when you picked them, and if you're lucky you come to think that this pair was meant for you.
Ladies and gentlemen, this is how most straight men think about vaginas (except for the part about yard sales, obviously you can't sell vaginas at yard sales, it's allegorical)*
*If you're a woman and have a problem being compared to shoes, I suggest you start a blog and write an entertaining yet articulate refutation.
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