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Location: Brooklyn, New York, United States

I have a tendency to unconsciously appropriate other peoples' affectations, leading me to say things like y'all.

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Thursday, March 23, 2006

You poor soles*

Unfortunately for all of you out there the content of this blog is at my whim. Even more unfortunate is the fact that I wore the First Date Shoes today.

What are the First Date Shoes, you want to know? Well, all in good time...I should start at the beginning so that when Sophie wonders whether her parents were ever, you know, normal people, she can come here and find out that they were actually just horny.

The beginning is that John and I went to the same party wanting to get laid**. It's true. Neither one of us wanted to find something real or enduring or serious. We were both so jaded by our recent dating histories that we'd sworn off that kind of thing. As Johnsmom puts it: we were a ripe pair of suckers. Based on witness testimonials, we only stayed at the party for about an hour and a half or so before going to my apartment to accomplish the intended mission.

I should let those of you who didn't see John that night know that he a) had a moustache, b)wore a suit and an untied bow-tie. His socks and his bow-tie matched (those are known as the First Laid Socks). It was a nice presentation.

The night we met was the first time I thought I looked beautiful when I looked at myself in the mirror.

When we woke up in the morning, after talking about so many different things, after John took my phone number and promised to call so that we could schedule our first date...and that was the term he kept using: "I can't wait to take you on our first date"...I felt like it didn't matter if he didn't ever call, because it had just been a really great night in and of itself.

For some reason, which even he to this day cannot understand, John decided to come and pick me up at my door the following Saturday for our first date. I wore my favorite slinky dress and a pair of very vampy very sexy patent-leather kitten heel shoes. The most expensive shoes I'd ever bought in my life. Then I sat around for a long time wondering whether I'd been stood up.

Now, the misleading thing about the First Date Shoes is that they weren't the shoes I wore to our first date, but they were the shoes I wore on our first date.


When we arrived in the city, John offered that we hop in a cab, but because it was a really nice night and I enjoyed having his arm around me and the Mermaid Inn was only 5 blocks or so away, I voiced a preference for walking. Three blocks from the restaurant my very vampy very sexy patent-leather kitten heels got caught in a crack and one of the kittens was ripped clean off. I made a painfully prolonged and valiant attempt at reattaching the heel myself, but it wasn't happening. It was late enough that most retail stores were closed and I was standing on one leg on the lower east side with a broken shoe in my hand, feeling like a complete fool and trying to think of how this date could possibly not be over. I was effed.

Enter the First Date Shoes. I realized that Urban Outfitters might still be open, because they basically are the McDonald's of the fashion world and so we hopped into a cab and voila: I was re-shoed. If given the chance to buy my First Date shoes of my own accord and not in a desperate situation, I probably wouldn't. But because they served me well, I take them out now and again and do them justice.

The crappy thing for anyone who isn't me is that the First Date Shoes get me all misty eyed and nostalgic, even if my feet are killing me at the end of the day.

*If you are one of my real-life friends, you may want to skip this one so as to continue the illusion that I'm an interesting person and don't tell the same story to anyone who'll hear (read) it.

** I tried to warn you, but would you listen?


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