Men, Listen Up. (Ladies, You’re Welcome.)

Is it wrong to write off entire groups of men within a three second time span? Is it wrong … or is it efficient?

Maybe it’s neither. Maybe it’s actually called “The reason why I will be alone at 35 and by alone I mean ALONE because I hate cats and don’t even have the option of being a Cat Lady.”

Whatever it is, it’s an active part of my daily life, not unlike flossing or complaining. Some people spend months, yearseven, trying to decide if a certain person is right for them or not. YEARS. That’s a lot of wasted time, and I’m all about efficiency when it comes to important things, like cleaning and packing and evaluating potential life partners based on their choice in footwear.

A valuable quality I’ve discovered in myself is my innate ability to size up a man’s interests, personality and general likeability solely by what he is wearing on his feet.

You might at first scoff at such a claim, adding that even if one had such a skill surely no one would utilize it. “Isn’t it risky?” you ask. “Completely ruling out an innocent individual within the time it takes to high-five a midget? Aren’t you afraid of writing off someone who might actually be interesting and semi-normal, all because of such a shallow stipulation?” And to that person I would say, “Midget jokes are sorely overdone.” Then, I would proceed to say, “And no, I do not have those fears, because my premature judgments are never wrong.”

Take the curious case of Crocs, for example. If a man is wearing Crocs when I first lay eyes on him, it means a number of things. Most importantly, that he is alarmingly inconsiderate of my pupils and their need to see something less douchey. It also means that he probably slipped on his thumb ring, smoothed out his jorts and set out to annoy the shit out of the rest of the world that day.

I will leave Crocs alone now. I feel like I harp on them with the same frequency that I write out “Hayley O’Brien” on any and every writable surface, and that is bordering on just unhealthy. It’s difficult to restrain myself though because Crocs are such an easy target, and I justify my condemnation by maintaining that anyone who wears them publicly is a glutton for punishment and is basically begging for a verbal lashing. And who am I to deny a masochist his pain?

Next order of business: flip-flops. This trend is harder for me to criticize since flip-flops are about as rampant as Kanye twitter rants. But it really just comes down to this: flip-flops are lazy.

Just look at their name- flip-flops– which has outrageously been reduced to a mere “flops” as the years have gone by. If you wear flops, you are basically saying you take the easy way out and generally back down from a challenge. This is not an attractive quality. It’s like, “I’m getting dressed and about to have to make a game time decision; I finally washed these jeans, I actually ironed this shirt, and I even changed my underwear today. Now, to complete the look … I think I’ll go with these psuedo-shoes that expose the majority of my pale, unappealing feet, which are really only harnessed in by a disconcerting two straps of rubber that converge between my even more unappealing toes. Yeah, this looks good.” It’s like his head was in the game the whole time, and then he just gave up right at the very end. Flops look sloppy and careless- anyone can slip on a pair and call it a day. But it takes an interesting man to put the flops aside and opt for a stylish shoe that doesn’t leave his feet hanging out the sides, all up in everyone’s faces.

All of this isn’t petty and superficial, but rather a wise, preemptive mechanism for gauging levels of compatibility. If you have on kick ass shoes, I can guarantee you we will have something to talk about if I approach you. It’s like we are already on the same wavelength in life before even meeting; it’s a beautiful and comforting thing. On the flip side, flops guarantee an uphill battle from the beginning, starting with the obvious problem staring me in the face, combined with countless other unforeseeable issues down the road.

Personally, I’m a sucker for really cool shoes—think David Beckham or Kid Cudi or Kanye style. (Put on a pair of old school high top Nikes and I am yours ‘til the end.)

 

Hawt.

I realize this is an acquired taste for most, so I am also open to the more conventional footwear available for men—cowboy boots, Sperrys or even just regular New Balances. Most anything other than these is a complete deal breaker and will most likely contribute to the majority of the problems you face later on in life (don’t say I didn’t warn you).

So there’s the hard, cold truth: When I am presented with a potential male suitor, you’ll no doubt find me instinctively glancing at his shoes. If my glance is met with low-top Skechers paired with ankle socks, you will then find me uncontrollably shaking my head and thinking about how painful our first date would be. (The only exception here is men over 70. At the airport the other day I stumbled upon a man with mid-calf-length socks and strappy velcro sandals (aka Jesus sandals). My blood pressure immediately jumped 47 points, until I looked up to find a sweet, elderly 75-year-old face attached to those controversial feet (well, first attached to his neck and body, which was then eventually attached to his feet). I breathed a sigh of relief and focused my fury on the character behind him sporting these):

 

Unless you are Shaquille O'Neal, you cannot wear these.

Oh, and one more thing—never, ever touch these. Don’t even think about it:

 

HIGHLY DISTURBING. (Sorry, Blair).

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