it is a truth universally acknowledged that a man who wants to score with chicks must wear a good pair of shoes. She may not be her hair, but you are your shoes.
However, once you get the right pair shoes the panties will be dropping hard and cracking floors everywhere you go. This I have on good authority by the way. Better Half told me that if any guy wants to bang some specific chick, this is what he should do. (not exactly Better Half’s words though, I may have paraphrased)
1- Find some glossy hand-made Italian shoes that cost an arm and a kidney
2- Don’t even bother with clothes (well, maybe tie a ribbon round your dick. A little showmanship never hurt)
3- Show up at said chick’s door like Tantaraaaa!!!
4- Magic will occur
PS: Don’t wear white socks. According to Better Half, white socks are suicide.
That is all it takes. Easy isn’t it? Unfortunately for me I am not the kind of guy who is going to allow this sort of thing to be imposed on me, not in 2013. Deep down inside I know that I deserve to be chowed for who I truuuuuly am.
Well, either way, here are five footwear for I and I the undiscerning man who wants to keep it real and (somehow) still get the panties to drop.
Crafted by God no less. That dusty stained skin she is looking at is the finest leather by the way. Living leather (pun alert!)to boot. Those cracked soles with ncha-cha galore? Those are customized treads, designed by nature herself. Better Half wants a man who is down to earth does she? I will show her down to earth.
When Better Half starts sneering ( because she will), I tell her that I forgive her for she knows not what she doing. Jesus was a carpenter who died for her sins. Like sneering.
Yeah, sneering is a sin.
It is likely when I show up at her door in lugabire; that she will inquire if I parked my wheelbarrow somewhere safe. Sometimes there is a sense of humor lurking somewhere inside her. It is better therefore, that you do what I do and pre-empt the whole business by showing up with your lugabire AND the wheelbarrow.
There is a time when moccasins were, if not cool, at least coolish. I haven’t seen them around in a while. Since like Red Indian days in fact but the truth still is that those things were damn comfortable. And quiet too. No sound at all. Tip toe up to the window, climb in and before she knows it,
The horny ninja strikes again.
On this one you are on your own. But wama I believe in you.