The Wife Shoe Wiki
It was date night in the land of Twinfamy, and with the Twins in the more-than-capable hands of my parents, my wife and I were ecstatic. With a whole night completely devoid of anything having to do with tiny people spread out before us, we were out on the town doing the wildest, craziest, most psychotic thing imaginable–picking up a few things at Babies “R” Us while we waited for our restaurant to open at 5 pm.
My wife always does this. We finally have a moment to ourselves to do something awesome like pound tequila shots just before bungee jumping off the Washington Monument and making love midair, but just as I’m getting on the phone to book the private jet, she’ll say something like, “You know, we really need to go get more paper towels at Target.”
And the worst part is, she’s freaking right. We do need more stupid paper towels.
As we exited Babies “R” Us with our deeply exciting date night purchases (toddler socks and Balmex), my wife suddenly turned to me and asked, “So, did you notice my new shoes today?”
I instinctively looked down at her feet for the first time that day, because, well, of course I hadn’t noticed her new shoes. I’m a guy, and I barely care about my own shoes. I’m especially not sure how–as someone with literally four pairs in my rotation–I’m expected to keep track of all 47 of hers and ascertain whether the currently worn pair is a new addition. Perhaps I should maintain a Wife Shoe Wiki.
And as I mused about my apparently lackluster shoe-tracking skills, I realized I hadn’t responded.
“Nice,” I enthused, pointing at her feet. “I like the black straps.” Good one, John.
“You didn’t even notice my new shoes?” she prodded.
“Why would I look at your shoes?” I replied. “There’s plenty of better stuff to look at. Your face for example. Or your boobs. Or your butt.” See how deeply romantic I am on a date? I can bust out Shakespearean-sonnet-caliber lines like these on the spot. But sorry ladies, I’m spoken for.
However, my romantic gesture was lost on my wife, who was still stuck on the shoes.
“I can’t believe you didn’t notice my new shoes.”
I sighed. And then spoke for every man who has ever had to discuss shoes with a woman:
“Babe, I hate to break this to you, but men don’t give a sh!t about women’s shoes. Only other women care about women’s shoes.”
Seriously. I’ll notice new shirts. I do, in fact, have an opinion on which dress you should wear and have no problem helping you decide on one for 45 minutes. And you can bet I’m all ears (and eyes) when you solicit any feedback on your undergarments.
But shoes? I nothing them. They are arguably the least exciting component of women’s clothing.
Besides, noticing shoes implies I’m not looking my wife in the eye.
Sooooo…with that in mind, it stands to reason that I am an excellent husband for not noticing shoes and instead dreamily gazing at my wife’s beautiful face.
…basically anything but the shoes.
And while my aversion in women’s footwear seemed sacrilegious to my wife, as I explained this all to her on the way to the restaurant, she seemed to almost, kind-of-sort-of maybe possibly understand where I was coming from, which I will hereby claim as a win for men who are forced into shoe conversations everywhere.
. . .
Moments later, as we made our way across the parking lot to our happy hour destination, I looked down once more at her feet. Catching her eye and rocking a grin, I said, “But since you brought it up, and now that I’m giving them my full attention, those. Shoes. Are fabulous.”
She laughed, lightly slapping my shoulder. “Dork.”
“How was that?”
“A little too much.”
“See? It’s just unnatural.”
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If not, you probably didn’t even notice my wife’s shoes. How dare you.
I had a pair of new shoes on that were very high for me and I asked my hubby if he noticed anything different about me to which he replied, “Did you pluck your eyebrows?” That was twenty years ago and I still remember it. Thanks for making me laugh.
Yep, see? That’s what I’m talking about. Shoes don’t even occur to us as a possible thing that is noticeably different.
And you’re welcome. :)
You and my husband should go bowling…
Seriously, hilarious!! I can’t stop laughing!
Big fan of your blog, especially having a 2 year old and 2 twin girls that are 7 months of my own! :-)
Thanks so much. I’m actually a pretty crappy bowler so I’m only in if he won’t annihilate me. That’s quite a full house you have. Twins are plenty for me, but a two-year-old PLUS twins? Kudos.
The truth must be told.
See, the thing is that my boobs and butt pretty much stay the same – so the shoes are the least expensive way to make a noticeable change that doesn’t require plastic surgery.
Yeah, I get that, but I still wouldn’t count on it being noticeable to any guys. I’m willing to bet the Cap’n feels nothing for your shoes, too. But I guess if you’re interested in looking fancy for other women or just for yourself, go for it.
I actually got excited looking at all those shoes in the photo. I guess my husband is one of the only people in the world who notices shoes. :-P He’s also a fashion critic and equally a boobs/butt admirer.
Good for him. I just can’t get on board with that. I have no ideas to contribute on the subject aside from saying the shoe color out loud.
There should clearly be a sitcom about your life.
That’s what I’ve been saying for years.
I’m waiting, Hollywood.
So funny, because it is so true. Love the clip to. Miss that damn show.
Yeah, it was a great show–the first few seasons anyway. The last few seasons really lost steam.
Reblogged this on McCombs Mayhem.
I just asked my boyfriend if he notices my shoes… The answer was no, lol. But at least he said he noticed them on my birthday!
I just found your blog today. I’m not a parent, but it’s still awesome!
Wow, you must have had some fancy birthday shoes. Perhaps they were equipped with strobe lights and police sirens?
Thanks so much. Welcome!
But shoes? I nothing them. – best line ever. Love it!
Thanks so much!
You definitely have a new follower. :)
Hooray! Welcome aboard! Feel free to help yourself to the complimentary food in your refrigerator.