A Shameless Plug

 I write on Medium. Here is one of my articles I published on there. It has to do with Oxford Houses, transitional-living homes for people in recovery from drug and alcohol addiction.

The Real Rules No One Tells You: The Awful Truth About Oxford Houses (Part 4) | by Quillen Culler | Medium

Clueless & Sexist Shoeism

Would you tell a man to wear women's shoes if they didn't have his size in men's? No? Why not?

It's a fair question to ask, but it seems to elicit snarky remarks when I do. This is not some random question I ask strangers, but when I have told people that I wear a women's size 12 and have trouble finding shoes that are comfortable and inexpensive, they recommend the men's section. I ask if they would make a similar suggestion to a man, such as "if they don't have your size, look in the women's section."

It doesn't go over very well. I ask why I should be expected to wear shoes that are too wide and unflattering, and then it usually devolves into me being "weird" or "unusual," and "what do you expect when you have such big feet?"

 I have been tall my entire life. One of the biggest downsides to being tall (besides the dumb questions and comments) is the inevitably large, cruise ship-sized feet. It is much easier to find stylish shoes in my size than it was 30 years ago, but it's still more of an effort than I believe it should be. 

I get the most clueless comments from women who have "normal" feet. They tell me where they shop and seem shocked that I don't shop there as well, and when I have made the mistake of going to a mall with them, they can't understand why I'm not looking at the shoes. I tell them that the particular store doesn't stock my size. I remind them (again) that I wear a 12. 

"Well, I saw some 10s and 11s when I was in here last week. " 

Seriously? What good does a size 11 do me when I wear a 12? I then suggest that instead of asking the clerk for the size 7 they need to just get a 6 and see how well that does. 

That doesn't go over very well either. I end up getting either a vacant stare or a brief expression of sympathy, but it is quickly replaced with "I'm so glad I don't have that problem."

I have not once had anyone suggest shopping at a store that can accommodate me. Instead I am expected to sit quietly during their shopping experience, only speaking when asked which of the multiple pairs of essentially the same shoe look better. 

I have learned that this is not only a sign that my shopping companions are clueless but devoid of empathy as well. If you meet someone who is different from you in various ways, isn't it entirely likely that they will have different experiences and needs from your own?

On Being a Writer

I can't even get my adult children to read what I write. 

When I've told them and other people in my life that I write, they always ask for a link to whatever it was that took me hours to cough up, edit, and publish. They tell me that they can't wait to read it. That sounds like interest, right?

Turns out, it never works that way.

When I first got started, I fell for this deception. How was I supposed to know that they are filthy liars? That they meant none of it and will likely never read anything that flows from my nimble hands? And how did I become privy to this information?

Because I can see from my stats on other platforms that they never even looked. And they never responded when I asked for feedback. It's like I had disappeared from the face of the earth after sharing my work with them--at their request, no less.

I think I have finally come to terms with this tomfoolery. Though I would prefer that they simply tell me that they have no interest, I cannot expect them to act like my one friend who was this honest. ONE! He said he thought it was great that I was writing, but that he wouldn't read any of it because he wasn't a reader.

I have to admire that kind of refreshing directness. It's like telling someone, "It was good to see you, but I'm lazy and don't like to get out much, so...BYE!" That never happens. It usually goes like this:

"Let's get together and have lunch," but they don't mean it, and when I hold them to it, they act like I'm the asshole for keeping them to their word. Or really, to their fake promises.

Because of this experience, I decided to start this blog and tell no one about it. They can just continue on as they always have, uninterested as always.

I will be fine with that.