Do (insufficient) shoes make the man?

Let's start out this bit by saying this...if you know me, you likely know I'm not the kind of person to hand down a verdict of another person at first glance. (Well, unless I'm with the girls and there's a really good punchline in it for me) I mean, yes, I might have been guilty of a little harmless running commentary on the sparkling whale's tail leaping bravely out of a girl's jeans onto her mid-back. But, I mean it purely in a Tim Gund/Tim Conway-ish kind of way. I mean, hey, if I'm going to see another's undergarments, please let them not be overly whorish and ill-fitting. Or jokes on you.

So back to the footwear question.

Here's the thing. I had a date show up in flip flops. And I found this odd for a few reasons:

1. We were in Dover, NH. In the fall.
2. He wasn't carrying a longboard on his shoulder, nor was he sporting a head of salty blonde curls.
3. He was 42.
4. Did I mention we were in Dover? Landlocked?

So here I am...nervous as hell ('cause I'm horrible at this dating thing) and the first thing I notice are these flip flops. And I am completely horrified and spellbound at the same time. I simply could NOT keep my eyes from clockwork glances down at the choice of footwear. Flip flops. Toes and all hanging out like we were catching a wave and sitting...well, you know how the song goes.

He had really nice feet, though. I'll definitely give him that.

But really?
Flip flops?

I then went through this horrible guilty phase of the date. Where I ordered another glass of wine and beat myself up for getting hung up on the flops. Where I insanely, quietly self-lectured about the immaterial nature of one's footwear and how half-grown I was being.

But truth told, I couldn't shake it. This thought that a flimsy footchoice on the first date makes a man, well, flimsy. Unless, that is, you're Jeff Spicoli. Or my brother-in-law. Because then, you actually live near sand and surf. And you're cool. The flip flops actually make a bit of sense...

I think I hid it pretty well. My concern/obsession about the flops. Because he did ask me out again.

And I, eager to catch the new Cohen brother's film, and not wanting to be judgemental and all fashion-rash, said yes.