i've always been one to believe that the only worthy reason of looking down (literally) at people are their shoes. of course, you would very much want to digress if you're gay, and rearrange certain bits of the previous sentence. rearrangements like 'the only worthy reason of looking down at men are their (insert area of interest that lies below the waist)'. but then again, some people like to look down at such things, while others prefer an eye-to-eye level when it comes to matters like these. so let's just leave it at that, eh?

well feet and dicks have always had plenty of connotations together. to begin with, the urban legend that goes about regarding men with size 11 feet have 'size 11' penises should defnitely remain as that, an urban legend. i once knew of a random guy i met at the spa whose huge feet (and nice body and rather chiselled-looking face) attracted me (not that i have a fetish for all things footy, mind you) into a random room with him. before i knew it, the towels were off and well... let's just say that it wasn't exactly 'size 11' to begin with. 'size 1' was more apt. i ended up bonking the poor chap.

the only good that i saw out of it was that he had very firm footing to counter my hard thrusts.


call me sentimental, possessive or just outright stingy, but i can't help but hold on to any pair of shoes that i own for an overly-extended period of time. to me, it's always the shoes that make or break an outfit. Mr. Timberlake has his sneakers. Ryan Stiles has his flamboyant 1950s footwear. Imelda Marcos has her famous collection in Marikina, Manila ('They went into my klosets looking for skeletonnes, but thunk Gawd, all they pound were shoes, beautipool shoes'). and my mother basically takes up a third of the shoe cabinet plus another half of the store room. just in case you're wondering, i take up only a third of the shoe cabinet. my father and brother take up the other miserly third, give and take. to tell the truth, i think my collection spills into my father's and brother's third.

when it comes to purchasing them, i'm very particular about my shoes. and all the gay men will tell you that men's shoes are not exactly cheap and of a wide variety to begin with. a shade too bright and you'll be considered flamboyant. a design too feminine and it just screams 'i'm a bottom! fuck me!' and don't get me started on local designers who plagiarize luxury brands to produce a bastard child of these shoes. all in all, shoes are quite an effort. and that is why, i take pride and give respect to men who can procure shoes that look good, feel good and make them last.

come to think of it, the last time i bought a new pair of shoes was a depressing eleven months ago. there's nothing new on the market that exactly entices me. Havianas are getting passe (and still, i bought a pair for Christmas on thirteenth month bonus money). Converses are a dime a dozen. and shoes that combine formal elements and the streets, still end up looking like they ought to be matched with businesswear. i did consider purchasing a pair of limited edition Puma sneakers. you know the type that are oh-so-in with the gay crowd these days. unfortunately, my endomorphic frame prevents me from looking good in them (i feel very 'unbalanced' in them). the only shoes that i truly feel comfortable in are apparently skater shoes. gimme a pair from Globe and you'll make a happy gay sk8erboi out of me.

same goes for those Nike Airforce Ones (Nike AF-1). these flat-soled things are just apt for my work. i can bring a patient to bathe in them and they are as waterproof as a condom in a shower scene. plus there's nothing that says 'street cred' and 'out of my way, bitch' when i run in those things to reach for the emergency trolley. which brings us round to the shoes that got me writing this particular post. apparently, my Nike AF-1s gave up the ghost about a month ago. now, my black AF-1s are a treasured pair that i've worn since my student nurse days. that practically makes about six years ago. of course that also means six years worth of accumulated bacteria and organisms residing in those things.

it was the soles that gave way. if you look at the picture on the left, you can see that right half of the shoe has no sole. yeap, it fell off mid-work. that gave me the perfect reason to take them off and put on my pair of brown Globe skater shoes at work. the only thing that prevented me from doing an ollie was the lack of a skateboard. and of course, my job. and my supervisor. and the complaints that i would get if i did an ollie. and not forgetting to mention that i don't know how to do an ollie (i tried once and i ended up with a bad back for about three days).

and thus began the search for the perfect black shoes to accompany my working attire. for one, i was not going to wear the black hospital-issued Hush Puppies. they are black, they are formal and they absorb water like a sponge. many a new staff have worn those shoes, only to realize that they crumble within three working months. apparently, water makes those leather shoes crack. and the more water they absorb, the faster they crack. and before you know it, you have a pair of shoes fit for a prop in a cheapskate production of Oliver Twist.

thank goodness though i found my perfect black shoes within one sweep of two shopping centres. i've always wanted a pair of those wing-tipped shoes. one that would be suitable for work and clubbing. unfortunately i'm not a white-collared worker stuck in an office cubical from nine to five. so there's no reason for me to hop down to Aldo and get a pair. so i settled for some more practical. a pair of wing-tipped ones that looked like sneakers from the side and a formal pair if you looked down from my point of view (don't mind the big bulge blocking the view).

and since we're back to dicks, i guess this is the perfect way to end this post about shoes:
i'm a size 9 and have yet to disappoint.

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