Lots of Shoes but No Men

(A girl named Marsha is holding out for a handsome beefcake. She wants the perfect hottie with all the bells and whistles. Her friends tell her she should aim much lower and just settle. Marsha disagrees. She thinks all she has to do is spend less time buying shoes, and more time man hunting. Time will tell.)

"Honestly Marsha, what is that, your tenth pair this week?"

"I needed something in that shade of turquoise."

"I don't see why. I know your wardrobe well, and I can't ever remember seeing any turquoise colored outfits in your closet."

"Maybe not now, but sooner or later, when one comes up, at least I'll already have the shoes to match."

Gloria shook her head. "A closet full of shoes, but no man!"

Marsha seemed offended. "Don't rub it in. I'll get that man eventually."

"It would be a whole lot easier if you didn't spend all your time shopping for shoes instead of shopping for a man."

Marsha hung her head, speaking dejectedly to the floor. "You make it all sound so easy. That's why I do so much shopping in the first place, cause I aint got no man. I gotta take pleasure in something. I used to spend all my time shovelling food, especially high calorie deserts down my throat. Only it made me pack on the pounds. I can't afford to get any heavier or I'll explode. So I shop instead of eating. What would you have me do?"

"Go out with my brother Arnie."

Marsha now shook her head in disgust. "Again with your brother. He's not my type. I'm sure he's a really nice fellow, but he's not the kind of man I'm looking for."

"And just what kind of man, pray tell, are you looking for?"

"You know, a little more, well kind of hotter and more beefcake, a kind of Brad Pitt, Arnold terminator, Denzel Washington all rolled into one type."

"A sex symbol is not the kind of man you need right now."

"The hell you say! Just what kind of man do I need then?"

"The marrying kind!"

Marsha sighed, feeling as though her best friend had just rammed a dagger through her heart. "You don't have to rub it in. I'm thirty-nine, black, overweight, average looking, and don't own my own car or condo."

"At least you have a closet full of shoes."

"I thought you just got through saying that my shoes didn't amount to a closet full of beans?"

"It shows you are fashionable. Some guys like that. It's a place to start. Have you tried any dating sites?"

"Dumb question. All women try dating sites. Been there, done that. A real dead end. Married men pretending to be single! Young men wanting to date cougars! Players looking for more notches in their belt! Men who only have sex on the brain! Then there are the real loser types that get to know you and show promise, only to start hitting you up for loans and handouts. That whole dating scene can get pretty depressing."

"Fine, why not Arnie, then? You've tried everything else, why not give him a try?"

"You want me to date your brother? Have you looked in the mirror lately? In case you've forgotten you're Caucasian. And I don't date white guys, remember? Never have, never will?"

"And why not?"

"I don't know. Just the way I feel about it is all, besides, even if I were to scrap my 'no white guys' rule, he's a little too old for me."

"He's middle aged and so are you. He just turned fifty but so what? You're going to turn forty yourself in a year from now!"

"Don't remind me."

"Somebody's got to remind you. You ain't getting any younger!"

"He's average looking at best."

"So he's a plain Tarzan. You're also a plain Jane."

"He's a little pudgy around the waist."

"So he's got a pot belly, but so do you."

"He doesn't even own his own car."

"So he takes the bus, but then again, so do you."

"He works in a grocery store."

"So he fills shelves, but you work in a boutique, also stocking racks."

Marsha didn't bother answering. She knew exactly the type of man she was after and Arnie, while probably very nice, didn't seem to match any of her expectations.

Gloria kept on pressing. "If the two of you ever did get together, then you could start paying only one rent and before you know it you'd be able to afford that car and eventually that condo of your very own. You're wasting time."

"You make it sound like it's already a done deal. How do I know this brother of yours is actually even going to like me?"

"Cause he told me so, that's why."

Marsha's interest, for the first time, was suddenly peaked. "How would you know that? You're saying he told you as much?"

"Well, not exactly, but sometimes he'll ask, hey sis, how's that hot black friend of yours? And, since you're my only black friend, I know he means you."

Marsha looked blown away. "What exactly, do you suppose he likes about me that is so hot?"

Gloria's eyes lit up. "You see? All this time you've been turning your back on a guy that thinks you're hot, and languishing trying to get dates with men that don't want anything to do with you."

"Soooo, you're sure he's a sincere kind of guy? He's not the fuck 'em 'n leave 'em type, is he? I've heard that a lot of white guys are like that, you know, love 'em then leave 'em!"

"And black guys are not like that? Get your head out of the sand, girl."

"But he doesn't sound like he has any money?"

"So he's broke half the time, but he works and he pays his bills, and as I just finished saying, that is the fun of it most times, building a life together when you pool your resources. Being able to step back in five or ten years and admire your accomplishments."

"You're not lying, are you? What you said, I mean about him saying he thought I was hot?"

"My dear Marsha. Some guys like their women a little full figured. Arnie is one of them."

"Should have known, a fat freak!"

"Not at all. You're shapely with curves. He likes that, plus a little extra meat on the bones. The women he's dated before had the same body type as yours. Not slim, but not overly fat, just forty or fifty extra pounds so to speak."

"Is that what I am? Forty or fifty extra pounds?"

"Well, quite frankly, yes. And there is something else he said about you."

"Oh? What's that, and I hope you're not lying!"

"Don't worry. I'm not. That would simply be counter-productive and nonsensical."

"Fine, I believe you. What did else he say about me?"

"He said he thought you'd be a lot of fun. Sometimes he comes over for dinner and hears me laughing up a storm, chatting on the phone with you and when I finally hang up, he says that you sound like you'd be a barrel of laughs. I remember because he said the bible says something about laughter being like a medicine and how a woman like you would therefore be better than a doctor."

"Hmmm, quoting the bible. As in like a Jesus freak?"

"Not sure what you mean by that. He does go to church now and again if that's the info you're angling for. But he is honest, and I've never once caught him in a lie."

"First time for everything."

"Honestly, Marsha. Why do you have to assume that the man would just up and start lying to you?"

"A lot of men have done that to me."

"Perhaps, but Arnie is not one of them. At least give him a try."

"Well, okay. I suppose nothing ventured nothing gained. Only I'm not the kind of woman that just goes around inviting guys out on dates."

"Don't worry. I'll plant the seed myself. He asked me to go to the Rangers game with him at Madison Square Gardens this Wednesday. They're playing Toronto, I think?"

"Montreal."

"So you do follow hockey?"

"Very much so. Probably the only black woman on the planet that does!"

"Well, there you go. He's quite a hockey buff himself. He won the tickets on a free raffle at work. I had said I would go with him, but I don't follow hockey much. I'm more of a basketball fan, so you go instead."

"Sounds a little exciting, I admit."

"And then, later, if you want some neutral ground, then-"

"Naww, I know what you were going to say, and thanks, but no thanks. Coming back to your place after the game for a bite wouldn't be fun. If I like him, I'll let him take me home by cab, not far from the stadium, and then if I'm in the mood, I'll invite him in for coffee and well, you know, whatever else comes to mind. But I'm not a girl that believes on giving up the store early on in a relationship. So if he's the kind of guy looking for sex on the very first date. He's going to be disappointed."

"Sure, he's hot blooded just as much as the next guy, but I'm sure you'll be pleasantly surprised in that he is one of those rare breeds that does value good conversation and making lots of eye contact, listening to what you have to say."

"While ogling my cleavage, no doubt."

Gloria frowned. "Why are you so eager not to give him the benefit of the doubt?"

"I said I'd go out with him, didn't I? Isn't that enough?"

"No, cause it sounds as if you're just waiting for it to fail. You've got to give any relationship a chance."

"So you say. Fine. Set it up. This Wednesday I'll be ready and waiting. Only I hope I won't be disappointed as usual."

"Stop thinking so negatively, dammit!"

"Fine, fine. Don't get your knickers all in a twist. I'll give the guy a chance. Lord knows, it ain't like I got a lot of options. And at least I'll get a hockey game out of it."

"You got options. They're just not the options you've been dreaming about is all."

XXX

"That was quite a game."

"I'll say. Although I still can't believe Montreal pulled it off like that, and scored even while short-handed."

"A bad call by the ref if you ask me."

"I agree. So what does that drop New York in the standings to now?"

"Hmmm, third in their division, I think."

"They'll still make the playoffs, that's for sure."

"I don't know, I've seen them fold up like a tent down the stretch before. Take tonight, for example, choking like that with only a minute to go, and while they still had the one man advantage."

"Not a pretty sight. But speaking of pretty sights, Marsha, you keep staring at me as though you're looking me over. You've been doing it all night long, not quite sure of whether or not to give me the stamp of approval. I do wash behind my ears, you know."

Masha smiled sheepishly. She had been staring at him intensely, only not for the reasons he supposed. He seemed to be a lot more handsome up close than at a distance.

"You're not a bad looking guy is all," she said honestly, managing a more impressive smile.

He slid his trembling white fingers across her kitchen table and clasped onto her black hand. "Thanks, you're a really nice looking woman yourself! I've seen you a few times with my sister and even would ask her about you occasionally. I don't know if she mentioned it or not?"

"Something about me not being bad for a black girl."

"That's not what I said at all," he corrected, almost panicking.

"I know," she agreed. "Just making light of it is all. The truth is you're the first white guy I've ever been out with."

"I've dated other black women, but you're by far the prettiest, and the funniest."

She sighed in anguish. He had just tossed two compliments at her like hand grenades. It was up to her to sort through them and decide whether or not she wanted to take the bait. One compliment was about her looks, and the other about her personality. She was impressed, and yet, it was almost as if she were trying to find fault with him. She now realized that she had turned her back on a lot of potential nice guys by refusing to ever go out with white guys over the years, and to hit it off with Arthur now would simply underscore the fact she had tossed aside a lot of potentially fine husbands. She wasn't quite prepared, as yet, however, to admit she had been woefully wrong.

"You're still not convinced us white guys might make good husbands are you?"

"Pardon?" Marsha managed, clearly stunned that he had somehow managed to read her mind. "What makes you say that?"

"My sister told me what you said, about never wanting to date white guys on account of they are liars and perverts."

"I never said that at all," she shot back, clearly embarrassed. "I can't believe your sister is making me out to be some kind of monster."

"Well, at least you're a very pretty monster."

His unexpected compliment again struck a nerve and she was suddenly on high alert, wanting to set things straight.

"Let's get things perfectly clear," she spat out. "You keep tossing compliments at me like they're a dime a dozen, but you have to understand that some of us ladies don't get out much. It's not that we're necessarily hard up for men or anything like that, it's just that we've been lied to so many times before. I don't like the idea of wasting time. If you just want to have some fun and drape me over some table to hump me silly, then quickly move on, then that's what you need to tell me. Trying to get my heart to steer in your direction would not be wise unless you really are serious about a long term, meaningful relationship."

"What brought this on? Just cause I said you were pretty?"

"What brought it on? Oh, I don't know, perhaps being lied to dozens of times before by men who told me what I wanted to hear, only to steal my heart then get into my pants and then vanish out of my life as quickly as they had come into it. I tend to fall in love very easily, and so it's not fair for you to lead me on unless you are absolutely serious about looking for woman you can take home to momma. Lots of men say they are ready to settle down and then next thing you know they are busy sowing their wild oats all over the place."

"You sound bitter."

"Damn right I'm bitter. You sound like a really nice guy, someone I could easily fall for and get my heart all tangled up in. But then what? It was nice to meet you but I'm moving on? My heart don't move on so easily once it's been hooked."

She sounded feisty and full of spunk, just the way he loved them. He reached across the table with his handsome mouth and unexpectedly thrilled her red painted, glossy lips with a passionate kiss.

The pleasure thundering along her spine was immediate and intense, sending her reeling. What was he, brain dead? She had just finished telling him she didn't want her heart to be fucked with unless he was absolutely sure she was the one, and yet...and yet...he was still pressing his mouth hard against her love starved lips as though it was to be his last kiss on earth. When he did finally pull free, she felt herself swoon at the taste of heaven. He was certainly a far more skilful kisser than she ever could have possibly imagined.

She was panting at the unlocking of his glorious lips, her first ever kiss to a white man, and it came at a time when she just happened to be feeling a little too horny for her own good.

He waited for a rebuke but she gave none, instead, her blank stare of pleased astonishment was all that greeted his stunning blue eyes.

"It doesn't bother you that I'm overweight?" she spat out anxiously. If he was the genuine article then she didn't want him trading her in later on for some newer and improved model.

"I like my women full figured," he answered honestly, his eyes still sparkling and his smile broadening.

At least he hadn't called her fat. And she was now still reeling in the heavenly sensations lingering from his kiss, and she wanted more. It was now her turn to again test the waters.

Her mouth moved toward him quickly and without warning, smothering his mouth with her anxious, glossy lips.

His arms wrapped around her shoulders and back, pulling her closer, holding her in place longer.

Her toes curled and her body began to shiver as their closeness brought her cleavage to rub against his pressing chest.

When they finally did break free, she began to doubt the wisdom of tempting fate where the no sex on a first date was concerned.

"It was a great hockey game," she offered, desperate to switch gears back to the original conversation. "And I had a great time tonight. But I have to get up for work in the morning so I think I'd like to call it a night.

He understood instantly that she was on the ropes, hopelessly turned on and that she was worried she was playing with fire. She was therefore desperate to get herself out of the temptation immediately.

"I had a great time as well," he affirmed, rising. He didn't want to whine like a little kid over not being able to stay longer. He wanted her to know she could trust him to always leave instantly if that is what she needed him to do.

"I'll phone you a cab," she declared nervously.

"No, that's okay. I can catch a cab on the corner," he offered, not wanting to force her to wait alone with him for the full ten minutes it might take a cabbie to come if she phoned him one.

They walked together to the door, and as she opened it, he gave her one last kiss on the lips.

She felt electrified, feeling her willpower succumb to instant mush.

His arm was around her waist and he could feel her tremble with turn on.

The cold night air did little to cool down her overheated body. She instinctively closed the door without him being able to actually step through it. He was still inside, standing on her doorstep.

"Spend the night," she offered, amazed she was allowing the three words to gush out of her mouth like a stepped on tube of toothpaste. She was horrified at herself, reeling in shock over the stunning, unexpected breach of her own 'no sex on the first date' rule.

Still, he had come across as extremely sincere, wonderfully thoughtful, undeniably nice, and a lot more handsome close up then she had first thought him to be from a distance. When she added to that, the fact he was simply by far the best kisser she had ever encountered, then there was little she could do to talk herself out of her wild and wacky decision.

He wasted no time, using the arm already around her waist to pull her closer.

Their mouths met and his free arm clasped her hair, letting her know he found her chestnut brown curls pretty and enticing.

Her two hands clasped his face, holding it for her trembling, glossy lips.

Their mouths remained locked together and she felt the twinge of heaven boiling over.

A part of her was furious with herself. She was breaking her two hard and fast rules on the same day, number one, don't date whitey, and number two, don't make love to a guy on the first date.

She was making an exception not only because he was a fabulous kisser, but because he was the brother of her best friend. Besides, she told herself. She had already tried everything else for all those years with little or no results. Veering from the path didn't seem to matter much now. She also told herself that there wasn't all that many men left who were genuinely interested in aging, overweight, plain black women who wanted marriage. Still, Arthur seemed different, although she was not bothering to put him to the test. She was rather unexpectedly hell bent on tossing him head first into her bed, where she could smooch naked first, then ask questions later. She supposed that such a scenario could prove a recipe for unmitigated disaster, but she also had to admit to herself that on the flip side of the coin he did seem to be genuinely very nice. He was also very skilful with his warm sensual lips on her naked, drooping breasts. He had somehow managed to get her top and bra off without wasting any time whatsoever.

She could feel her flesh start to get hot as his warm breath funnelled along her neck and breasts. As great a kisser as he was when confronted with her lips, he was even better when allowed a clear path to her defenceless chest.

She shivered uncontrollably as his mouth nibbled on her nipples then kissed each breast like it was made out of solid gold.

He was setting her on fire.

She began to moan. No man had ever made her feel this way.