{"id":1131,"date":"2011-04-07T04:00:00","date_gmt":"2011-04-07T08:00:00","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.bootedmanblog.com\/?p=1131"},"modified":"2011-04-07T04:00:00","modified_gmt":"2011-04-07T08:00:00","slug":"a-booted-man-in-an-unbooted-state","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.bootedmanblog.com\/?p=1131","title":{"rendered":"A Booted Man in an Unbooted State"},"content":{"rendered":"<p><span style=\"font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;\"><i>This is a guest blog post written by a man with whom I have been exchanging email for a while.  He has written to me about some of the posts on this blog which he told me have been both informative and some have been amusing (like my &#8220;amusing google search&#8221; posts that appear from time to time.)  He&#8217;s a teacher and enjoys wearing boots, but in a U.S. state where few men wear cowboy boots on a regular basis. The photos with this post are pictures of some of the boots in his personal collection. Here&#8217;s his story.<\/i><\/p>\n<p>By: The Only Booted Man in Town<\/p>\n<p>I am a nonconformist by nature.  I hate doing what other people do, and despise doing things because they are trendy.  Maybe that\u2019s part of why I wear cowboy boots in a part of the country where most guys don&#8217;t.<\/p>\n<div class=\"separator\" style=\"clear: both; text-align: center;\"><a href=\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/2.bp.blogspot.com\/-1bf_3Hg43zs\/TZyh55ox0DI\/AAAAAAAAC3A\/J55qNWdjGOo\/s1600\/Guestblogboots1.jpg\" imageanchor=\"1\" style=\"clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;\"><img data-recalc-dims=\"1\" loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" border=\"0\" height=\"320\" src=\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/2.bp.blogspot.com\/-1bf_3Hg43zs\/TZyh55ox0DI\/AAAAAAAAC3A\/J55qNWdjGOo\/s320\/Guestblogboots1.jpg?resize=113%2C320\" width=\"113\" \/><\/a><\/div>\n<p>But there&#8217;s more to it than that. Let me get on the leather couch for a minute and relax, and let my mind wander to the past.  Ahh, there we go. <\/p>\n<p>Here is my bootman story.<\/p>\n<p>When I was in high school, cowboy boots were cool for guys.  We were just coming off the &#8220;Urban Cowboy&#8221; thing, and boots were all over the place.  Except on my feet.<\/p>\n<p>I was a nerd by nature, and not well-respected by my peers.  I was shy as well, which didn&#8217;t help things.  Yet I lusted after a pair of boots.  Don&#8217;t know why.  Just really liked them.  Finally right before Christmas, my mom and I were in the mall browsing around.  We passed a display of cowboy boots in one of the stores.  Looking at them, I thought, &#8220;Man.  Do I actually ask for a pair?&#8221;  I did.  That Christmas morning I found a pair of new boots under the tree.  I was in love.  I put them on and wouldn&#8217;t take them off.  Now as I look back, I think, man, those things were terrible.  They were made by Fortina in Brazil, tan, with buck stitching on the side.  They had two-inch stacked heels, and really were not that great to walk in, but I loved them nonetheless.  I wore and wore those things.  I still have them and occasionally still do wear them.   Did I become the most popular guy in school?  No.  But girls still did notice them, which is more than what had happened to me before.  I kind of liked being a couple of inches taller (once I learned how to walk in them.)<\/p>\n<div class=\"separator\" style=\"clear: both; text-align: center;\"><a href=\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/1.bp.blogspot.com\/-ooTHsGqoQSo\/TZyiFWdRNmI\/AAAAAAAAC3E\/ycGH_1Z1lh4\/s1600\/Guestblogboots2.jpg\" imageanchor=\"1\" style=\"clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;\"><img data-recalc-dims=\"1\" loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" border=\"0\" height=\"320\" src=\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/1.bp.blogspot.com\/-ooTHsGqoQSo\/TZyiFWdRNmI\/AAAAAAAAC3E\/ycGH_1Z1lh4\/s320\/Guestblogboots2.jpg?resize=297%2C320\" width=\"297\" \/><\/a><\/div>\n<p>Other trends happened.  Boots were replaced by Jazz Oxfords (ick), and my beloved pair of cowboy boots sat in the closet.  But I couldn&#8217;t get rid of them. So I kept them.  High school turned in to college and grad school.  Marriage and two sons happened.  And yet those boots sat in the closet.  My wife even asked me once, &#8220;How come you never wear your kickers?&#8221;<\/p>\n<p><a href=\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/2.bp.blogspot.com\/-RgF5NcFidgk\/TZyic7N-SsI\/AAAAAAAAC3I\/WwW6tPhCZrE\/s1600\/Guestblogboots3.jpg\" imageanchor=\"1\" style=\"clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;\"><img data-recalc-dims=\"1\" loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" border=\"0\" height=\"320\" src=\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/2.bp.blogspot.com\/-RgF5NcFidgk\/TZyic7N-SsI\/AAAAAAAAC3I\/WwW6tPhCZrE\/s320\/Guestblogboots3.jpg?resize=248%2C320\" width=\"248\" \/><\/a>Then, out of the blue, one day, I put them on.  And fell in love all over again.  I was that couple of inches taller, walked a little prouder, felt a little more manly.  Hmmm\u2026.   I wonder if there are any cowboy boots on ebay.  Let me look here for a minute.<\/p>\n<p>Alakazam.  Boot Acquisition Disorder (BAD) hit really hard.  Before I knew it, I owned over 35 pairs.  Yes, a modest collection by bootman standards, but a lot for me.  I have more shoes than my wife!  I wore them every day at home and around town.  At first I was self-conscious.  Too gay, I thought.  Too manly.  Too whatever.  I googled &#8220;are cowboy boots gay&#8221; and ended up a BHD&#8217;s website (yes, BHD, I was one of &#8220;those guys&#8221; with the weird google questions).  Slowly, but surely, I stopped being so self-conscious about them and wore them in different places, like the junior high school where I work.  That took a lot of guts.  At first there were a few comments,  some by kids, some by male teachers, but they have stopped.  (Where\u2019s your horse, pardner?)  Now boots are a bit of a trademark with me. <\/p>\n<div class=\"separator\" style=\"clear: both; text-align: center;\"><a href=\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/3.bp.blogspot.com\/-EDUGykD8uVk\/TZyik4bl6fI\/AAAAAAAAC3M\/W14TKceNKdk\/s1600\/Guestblogboots4.jpg\" imageanchor=\"1\" style=\"clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;\"><img data-recalc-dims=\"1\" loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" border=\"0\" height=\"301\" src=\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/3.bp.blogspot.com\/-EDUGykD8uVk\/TZyik4bl6fI\/AAAAAAAAC3M\/W14TKceNKdk\/s320\/Guestblogboots4.jpg?resize=320%2C301\" width=\"320\" \/><\/a><\/div>\n<p>That&#8217;s the story.  But why?  Why do I wear cowboy boots here in the North country where we are thousands of miles away from the South and the West?<\/p>\n<p>Part of it is that they are masculine.  I am a quiet man by nature, and definitely not a jock.  Can&#8217;t throw a football worth a damn.  I&#8217;d rather work with textiles than power tools.  Never even learned to ride a bike.  But I love to ride horses.  English, though. Not Western.  Go figure.<\/p>\n<div class=\"separator\" style=\"clear: both; text-align: center;\"><a href=\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/4.bp.blogspot.com\/-UYqnMooKMI4\/TZyi23fmvmI\/AAAAAAAAC3Q\/22y43tB7_MI\/s1600\/Guestblogboots5.jpg\" imageanchor=\"1\" style=\"clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;\"><img data-recalc-dims=\"1\" loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" border=\"0\" height=\"320\" src=\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/4.bp.blogspot.com\/-UYqnMooKMI4\/TZyi23fmvmI\/AAAAAAAAC3Q\/22y43tB7_MI\/s320\/Guestblogboots5.jpg?resize=301%2C320\" width=\"301\" \/><\/a><\/div>\n<p>Part of it is the fact that not everybody else around here wears them.  I kid that I am the only booted man in town.  And for the most part I am.  I am also only one of two men in town with a handlebar mustache.  But who cares?  <\/p>\n<p>I wear them because I like them.  I wear them because they are comfortable.  I wear them partly for the Marlboro man mystique.  I wear them because my wife likes it when I wear them.  I wear them too because they represent independence, individuality, and strength.  <\/p>\n<p>Most of all, I wear them because I am me.  <\/p>\n<p>So there, in a nutshell, is why I wear cowboy boots.<\/span><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>This is a guest blog post written by a man with whom I have been exchanging email for a while. He has written to me about some of the posts on this blog which he told me have been both &hellip; <a href=\"https:\/\/www.bootedmanblog.com\/?p=1131\">Continue reading <span class=\"meta-nav\">&rarr;<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[5,32],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-1131","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-cowboy-boots","category-guest-blog"],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.bootedmanblog.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1131","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.bootedmanblog.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.bootedmanblog.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.bootedmanblog.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.bootedmanblog.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=1131"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.bootedmanblog.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1131\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.bootedmanblog.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=1131"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.bootedmanblog.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=1131"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.bootedmanblog.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=1131"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}