2. We deal with a double standard about undressing, specifically shoe removal.
Ever since Adam and Eve recognized their original shame and clothed themselves, and then Adam made sexual advances toward Eve while she was still pissed about the whole “how the hell am I supposed to keep two leaves on my breasts all the fucking time?” thing, there’s been a natural progression when sex happens.
Typically, the guy begins by taking off the lady’s shirt, then he probably unbuckles her bra, and then she unbuttons the guy’s shirt, and then he takes off their pants. But then there is the issue of shoes. Almost no woman ever removes a guy’s shoes.
So while I’ve unzipped a hundred or so pairs of brown boots, or at least tugged on them and angled them upwards as the girl I’m with wiggles her foot out, no one has ever, ever unlaced a pair of my Clarks. Never. When my jeans are pulled down and reach my shoes and won’t come off, most every woman reacts to that with the kind of exasperated frustration a toddler gives when you tell them it’s time to move on from Velcro sneakers.
