It’s our third date, and things are going really well. We’re back at my apartment for a nightcap, the lights are dimmed low, and some soft indie music is playing. ​You’ve gotten comfortable, kicking off your shoes near the coffee table and kneeling up on the plush sofa cushions so you can face me better while you talk. You’re deep in the middle of telling me a funny story about your work, gesturing animatedly with your hands, totally engrossed in the conversation. ​I’m smiling, nodding along and keeping strong eye contact so you don't notice what I'm doing below eye level. While you’re distracted by your own story, my hand snakes down toward the floor. ​Silently, I wrap my fingers around your discarded shoes. Slowly and carefully, I slide them across the rug and tuck them deep underneath the sofa, completely out of sight. ​Your feet are bare behind you on the couch, and your shoes are gone. You haven't noticed a thing. ​"That is so wild," I interrupt softly, leaning in a little closer to ensure your focus stays on my face and not the floor. "Wait, so what did you say to her after that?"