Let me preface this by saying: I don’t have a boyfriend. I’m very respectful of the women who do have the love of their life surgically attached to their hip, but for me, now is the time to live the single life. So in my spare time, I fancy myself with the usual habits of the single woman: shopping, shopping, oh and did I mention shopping?
I love shoes. Unfortunately, I don’t possess the means to get my Carrie Bradshaw on. I usually stick with great finds at DSW. I love that place. A warehouse of shoes galore...it’s enough to make a sane woman mad, and a shoe whore, such as myself, reach levels of excitement no man can bring her too.
I don’t mind being called a shoe whore, for the record. The money that’s left on the table, is going toward those cute Coach sandals located on the “designer” aisle.
Which brings me to the point of my story: ladies...it’s unfair to shoe whores across America to have your man in DSW, hogging up the shoe seats. And they do hog them all up...because what’s worst than bringing your boo to the kingdom known as DSW? Perhaps bringing him there and then off to your mother’s. Either way, he will hog the seat(s) intended for a character of the female persuasion. And that’s no fun when you are trying to strap up those fly Steve Madden’s...you know...the one’s that crunch your toes with their triangle tip, but you just gotta’ have them, because no other woman does?
Having that seat available provides a woman with that delusion of comfort that gets her to the cash register, and outside the door, with her oh-so-cute cornmakers in hand. Why deny her that excitement by having your man hog her DSW throne?