Posted by on
High heels were my boyfriend’s obsession. High heels on me, that is. It didn’t matter where we went or what we did… as long as I wore high heels, he was happy. Perhaps a little too happy I often used to think. But I hadn’t known him for long so at that stage it was still cute. I’d quite often catch him staring at my shoes when we were out at a function or out on the town for the night. I remember one time, we were at my cousin’s wedding - I had on the most stunning pair of glitzy red patent leather high heels - to match the shimmery red dress, naturally. We were in the chapel… all standing to do the sing song bit but there was Darryl, still seated… locked in a daze, gawking at my shiny red high heels!
Now I love high heels too, don’t get me wrong… but there’s a time and a place. I realised things were starting to get a little weird the day he ‘suggested’ I wear high heels to the beach. I mean, can you imagine it - high heels on a beach? In the sand? Walking along a beach… in high heeled shoes… in the sand??? It might be normal shoe wear for the Paris Hilton wannabees among us… or perhaps if I was competing on stage in the Miss Beachwear section of a local beauty pageant, but at that stage I was just little old sandal-wearing me. And when she goes to the beach – she doesn’t wear high heels!
We had a huge argument about it at the time. I look back now and wonder how I could’ve missed all the signs. That a man could be so obsessed with women’s shoes – well, high heels to be precise. We continued dating for a while after the’ beach incident’. And Darryl continued fussing over my shoes and buying me more and more high heels (that was a bonus). I had a wardrobe full to the brim of every colour high heel shoe known to man… but then strange things started happening….
My high heels were disappearing! I wasn’t sure at first – my wardrobe was hardly the neatest in the world so I thought maybe I’d just miscalculated. But eventually I noticed I had space… shoe space. I could see the floor! You never see floor in my wardrobe. It worried me a bit so I decided to pop round to Darryl and see if he thought I should report my shoe burglar to the police. You can possibly guess the rest. Upon arriving (unannounced) to Darryl’s flat I could see through the window of his bedroom. High heels were stacked up on shelves all along the walls of his room! And there was Darryl, oblivious to everything around him… in front of the mirror… wearing nothing but my fabulous red patent leather high heels.