I was thinking of making this an Ask Heather, since I haven’t done one in MONTHS, but honestly, no one wrote to me asking when it’s appropriate to sneak up on someone and touch their feet.
For the record, it’s never appropriate to touch someone’s feet unless
1. they ask you to
2. you’re naked and your feet are wrapped around their head and then it’s fair game
3. if you’re getting a massage that you paid for
Outside of those three instances which I feel touching someone’s feet would be appropriate, all other circumstances are not. Including touching someone’s foot you don’t know on a bus ride. Which definitely and not surprisingly happened to me last week.
It was the ride home from the traditional dinner and my dancing debut. All of the participants on the bus, including me, my friends and 130 or so other people. I was positioned towards the back of the bus, surrounded by friends, laughing and deep in conversation about how to open a couple of wine bottles without a corkscrew.
Wait. I need to show you how I was positioned so you have a good image of how this sneak attack went down.
So there I am, sitting in the aisle seat, talking to all of my friends that are marked with check marks. My legs are crossed, as I’m wearing a dress and nylons and my feet are angled in the aisle. Now I’m in the middle of a goddamned conversation with the friend next to me when out of nowhere, I see this guy one seat up on the opposite side LEAN BACK, give me the side eye and reach into the aisle. I pay very little attention to him because he also has the drunk eye and I am in the middle of talking to someone else.
Well I WAS talking to someone else until I feel him put his damned fingers IN MY SHOE, on the inside of my foot where my arch is, at which point he rubs his finger on my foot and says in some sort of non-whisper,
“I like your feet.” I imagine he thought that was a sexy line or at least I think he did by making some sort of weird kissy/fish/Zoolander face at me.
I pulled my feet out of the aisle, smiled awkwardly and said thanks.
Then I turned into my seat and carried on talking, hoping no one was paying attention to the foot lover.
“So anyway, New York City at Christmas time is lovely,” I carried on to my friend.
“Pssst.” He was now psssting me from across the aisle again. I do NOT like it when people pssst me.
“What.” My question came out flatly, as I was not interested in a foot tickle.
“I have a foot fetish and I NEED A FIX. I love your feet. Let me rub them.” He was making the Zoolander face again and I was trying not to laugh because I thought the only people who said I NEED A FIX where heroin addicts on Law and Order. This was fucking bizarre.
What was more bizarre is that my feet are not very lovable. I mean they’re fine in flip-flops and between April-September my toes are painted and prettied up but I’m not in the running to be the next American foot model. In fact, most of my friends tell me I have little hobbit feet. This doesn’t even bother me much because I have been compared to so many magical creatures (including a garden gnome once) that I’ve lost count of these little people references.
Sidenote: everyone should know that this is the first definition for the word fetish.
Definition of FETISH
1a : an object (as a small stone carving of an animal) believed to have magical power to protect or aid its owner; broadly : a material object regarded with superstitious or extravagant trust or reverence
Umm, so before we go further, YES. My feet are apparently magical. Now moving on…
I ignored his foot rubbing requests because the way he was looking at me made me think he also wanted to put my feet in his mouth WHICH WAS NEVER GOING TO HAPPEN because that shit is for weirdos (and Mr. H, though he hates rubbing my feet, would pummel him for touching my feet) and so I turned away and blatantly ignored him.
“So ANYWAY. You’ve seen the tree right? The big tree right in the…” I carried on to my friend, as though there was no foot propositioning going on a minute earlier.
“Did that just happen? That really just happened, right?” My friends are much more observant sometimes than I give them credit for.
“Yes, yes it did,” I said as I shrugged.
And with that, I decided I’d never leave my sweet little feet unattended again.