shoe math: and now a word from our romantic heroine

SHE
Are you kidding? Oh my God, I would kidnap you. Except, you know, you’ve got about eight inches on me. And despite years of yoga, my upper body strength is still sadly insufficient.

HE
Eight inches? How do you figure?

SHE
Shoe math.

HE
Was this lesson near parabolas? I think I slept through parabolas.

SHE
Shoe math. Listen. The first time I was standing next to you, it was evening, so I was wearing dressy shoes. All my going-out shoes have about a 3 inch heel. Except my formal shoes, which are higher, but I wouldn’t have been wearing any of those. And you were wearing normal inoffensive contemporary men’s shoes, which would have had about a 1 inch heel, or we probably wouldn’t even be speaking right now. So comparably, that nets me two additional inches. That aren’t really mine. And even with the two inches, I probably only came up to the bottom of your nose. Bottom of the nose to the top of the head, probably about half a foot, plus the two inches I shouldn’t have had. Eight inches. Give or take.

HE
Shoe math, huh?

SHE
Yeah. I used to call it girl math. Until I realized that guys do shoe math of their own.

HE
No offense, but I have no idea which shoes you were wearing.

SHE
You wouldn’t, unless I was wearing some seriously slutty ones. No offense. But you would have noticed something else. Which, though it might not have registered, would have been directly a result of the height of my shoes. Only in your brain, it would have sounded more like, “Oh wow, our hips are nearly the same level.” Easy access.