I do not for the life of me understand foot fetishes, but they somehow seem to haunt me. Remember when chat roulette became huge a few years back? I was with a couple of my friends and we were just messing around and talking to people who were dressed in panda suits when the video switches to one guy who types out “put the camera on your feet for me and wiggle your toes”; it was a request that elicited a laugh attack in Cody and a very dissenting face scrunch from Megan and me before we moved on. Just a couple of years before that, first week in the dorms my freshman year, I had an unknown number call me over 27 times within the hour with one request. Not only did this man know what color shirt I happened to be wearing, he threated to kill me if I tried to call the police and come in and get me if I tried to hang up on him again (which didnt stop me from hanging up). His request? That I come outside and step on his back in my bare feet.
There are times when I just don’t understand humanity.
In case you were wondering, we did call campus security and they couldn’t find anyone (but really, campus security once took 30 minutes to get across a campus loop that was about the size of a football field when one girl ran her truck into the brick Whitworth entrance sign, so what could you expect). He eventually stopped calling, and I never figured our who he was. Thank the Lord I haven’t dated anyone with a foot fetish, I have no idea how I could react any way but negatively if that surfaced in a relationship. It’s just too weird for me, and I’m far too ticklish for anyone to go near my feet.
That being said, I have managed to find myself some real winners. My most recent ex happens to be an ex coke dealer. To be fair, he has gone completely clean and has done quite well for himself, but I have to jab at him anyway. You’re allowed to do that to exes. I guess rebounds don’t have to necessarily be the highest quality individual since those relationships won’t last, but I can’t even redeem myself. My ex before that is a hypocritical, alcoholic janitor who works at his dad’s high school. He’s now dating an easy 19 year old in an attempt to avoid any real responsibility and has succeeded at becoming nothing more than a useless waste of space. But such is life.
Fact aside that I seem to have a relationship shelf life of three and a half months, I’ve just not come across many quality, date-worthy people (yet I decided to try and date a couple of them anyway). I have to keep in consideration the reality that I can’t seem to stay in one place for very long, as well as the fact that I’m not so sure I ever even want to get married so I’m not exactly looking. Being single isn’t all that bad though, it’s actually quite nice! Living the single life gives me the freedom to do whatever I want without being considered selfish. Do I want to jump on the next plane to anywhere for a spontaneous, random adventure? No problem! I don’t have to have to consider anyone else in this decision. I can go out and talk to other guys without having to worry about a certain someone getting jealous. I can even get my kicks by pulling a pash and dash whenever I want and there is no one to get mad at me for it. I can sit on the couch watching Buffy in my sweats and stuff my face with enough snacks to make a hippo look skinny without having to worry about impressing anyone. I’ll admit here are some perks to dating, but overall that ball and chain called a boyfriend can remain a memory and a warning, I’m having way too much fun living for me to involve anyone else. 🙂