“I only hit on white women, women of every other race are like my sisters“, he slurred. He must be few hundred pints of beer down, I did some mental math, also simultaneously trying to figure out whether to be offended for his racist remarks, or feel relieved for all my fellow brown sisters.
He ordered a single malt with coke, and said “I have no money“. I winced at his wastefulness. It just hurt — single malt and coke?.
“I must buy you all a drink”. Rest of the people on the table decided to shut up, nurse their drinks and look in different directions. Everyone got a free refill.
“My father once told me”, he continued, “if women can claim to be equal in work then why do they expect the men to pay for dinner?”
“Because we spend all our money on shoes“, I tried to reveal the secret of life to a drunk man.
“Tell me, when was the last time you had a door open for you?”
“Today”, I said, “Have you even seen my 3.5 inch heels?”
And with that, in that glorious moment moment, I figured out why we need all the chivalry we need. It’s just in our shoes. With heels, we are pretty useless, at all things that demand physical movement, except moving our arms about for gesticulation. So we need doors opened, and chairs pulled. Shoes are not “a waste of money”. They are an investment, an ammunition — I could stab someone with my stilettos, like you could with your swiss knife? And don’t ever call us wasteful, else we will kill you with the golf clubs you recently acquired.
That was pretty much my cue to leave.
