Must Love Shoes

A bold glimpse into me. Since I was courageous enough to post this, I will leave comments open. I could use a good laugh.

Must Love Shoes

In a recent conversation with my friend Shelley of Quaint Revival I confessed my love for women’s shoes. (No, I do not wear them). No, not a shoe kisser type either, I just adore women who have plenty of shoes (in all styles and colors). Women’s shoes and feet, totally drives me insane.

One of the reasons I chose this new apartment, it has a shoe closet.

My idea of the perfect evening?

Lights are turned low. We are sitting on the couch, sipping wine, listening to soft mood setting music. We talk about poetry, life, books, and my favorite subject – YOU. My hands gently caress and massage your feet which rest in my lap.

Coming from New York, I met women all the time, on the bus, trains, stores, and streets. I guess you know by now, shyness is not one of my traits. So, I don’t use any of those internet meet sites.

But if I ever was to place a personal ad….

Single guy in Orlando area. Loves walks on the beach, shopping, coffee, sunsets, writing, and great conversation. Enjoys an occasional sangria, wine, or mojito. Other than blogging, not into social media. You: Should share my love for writing and poetry. Prefer if you were smarter than me. Don’t worry, this is a no brainer. (bad joke). Love for trying new restaurants required. Good sense of humor necessary! Oh, and you MUST LOVE SHOES.

Cinderella

d3d339b2a1a505d16d4729b05ab8f766

Cinderella

Entering the quiet house, a thunderous silence greeted Lisa.

She flipped through her mail. As usual, the only men who remembered her were named Bill, utility and cable.

Finding her usual spot on the couch, she unpinned her hair, letting it cascade onto her delicate shoulders.

Reaching for her shoes, she remembered him. If he were here he would remove them, like he always did. That would be followed by a soothing rub and perhaps a loving kiss on her toes.

She sighed.

Hours later she lay deep in her recliner; wrapped in her thick white bathrobe. A diet coke and remote rested in her lap.

An annoying commercial interrupted the programming.

Her gaze fell upon her uncovered pale feet in desperate need of a pedicure.

She wondered what he would be doing if he were here right now. She smiled. She knew the answer. Painting her toe nails or massaging her tired feet.

No doubt, he would shower her with attention.

When he first spoke of his connection to her feet, she laughed and called him a stupid ape. She remembered his stupid grin when he called her Cinderella.

Then, came the days she actually envied her feet.

Now she missed the damn chimp.

 

A Few Notes:

The inspiration for this came from prior conversations with old girl friends and a recent one with my daughter’s mother.

The being referred to as an “ape/chimp” actually started with my high school sweetheart.

Please note: My butterflies have always bestowed the pleasure of shoe removal on moi.

It’s easy to make this chimp happy.