A couple weeks ago I received a message on OkCupid from a man who would best be described as “effeminate.” He looked sort of like if Clay Aiken grew a womb and he and Adam Lambert had a magic love child. Alright whatever, I’m just going to be straight up with you – he looked super gay.
This was way beyond metrosexual. His full, pouty lips were covered in gloss, his brows were shaped by Anatasia and his hair was higher and more coiffed than a Texas prom queen’s. Oh, and he also posted a separate photo of his shoes. And his miniature dog.
When I showed Claydam’s pics to my gay bf, he scoffed and cried, “Are you kidding? This guy makes me look like freaking Paul Bunyan!”
However, gay tendencies notwithstanding, the girly man did appear to be cultured, had a job, said he wasn’t looking for hookups, and was, well, quite pretty.
We exchanged several messages on the site and he was most gentlemanly. He laid the compliments on thick, referring to me as “stunning” and “ravishing,” and I chose to ignore how gay that sounded and instead just lapped it up because narcissism.
He seemed very sweet, so I gave him my number and we moved to texting. After about the fourth text, he drops this little nugget on me:
I’m not 100% sure what he meant by “do sexual things to feet,” but I couldn’t help imagining his penis poking around my heels and arches, searching for an entry.
Now, I happen to be very open-minded and am not one to dismiss somebody because of a harmless fetish. After all, foot rubs are a very close second to sex and I don’t mind a little toe sucking now and then.
But how about buying a girl a glass of wine or four before you spring something like that on her? A foot fetish isn’t a dealbreaker but it ain’t something you lead with, son!
I indicated that it was a touch too soon for sex talk and he explained that he just “felt very comfortable” with me. Very comfortable with me? We haven’t even met, Twinkletoes!
So lemme get this straight… you keep this deep, dark secret from each of your past paramours and the first person you come clean with is some random chick from OkCupid with whom you’ve exchanged a handful of text messages?
It was a bit much. Not to mention, do I really need another body part to be insecure about? My toes are crazy hairy, I’ve got a garbanzo-sized callous on the left big one and my littlest piggies resemble bay shrimp. I’m currently enjoying this winter break from keeping my toes polished and I’m not about to give that up. Also, I straight up admit I’m shit at giving hand jobs, so I can’t imagine my foot job game is going to be any better.
Claydam texted me the next morning, wishing me a wonderful day. He said to feel free to text him throughout the day if I get bored. But his instant comfort with a complete stranger was a thing that made me go “hmm,” and even though he might’ve been an incredible guy with dynamic qualities, I knew from here on out I’d always just think of him as the foot fucker.
After some consideration I decided this tootsie was gonna roll and Claydam would just have to find another girl willing to bare her sole. (Did you get that? That was a foot pun. I feel like I have to call it out because I’m afraid some of you won’t get it. GET IT?)
And Then This Happened…
I hadn’t thought much of Claydam since then… until yesterday when this disturbing image graced my Facebook feed:
If you’re thinking it looks like a severed foot with a vagina sewn in at the amputation site, you’d be correct. But while it appears to be a horrifying experiment found in Jeffrey Dahmer’s apartment, it is, in fact, a $175 sex toy.
Known appropriately as the “Vajankle,” its website describes it as a “beautiful, super-realistic silicone foot” with “a usable vagina in the top of the ankle.”
“Usable” vagina! Listen, marketing geniuses, let’s just call a spade a spade and say “fuckable,” mmkay? Vaginas have a few different functions, but I can say with a high degree of certainty that this thing will not be used to expel menstrual blood or birth an infant.
I seriously contemplated sending this to Claydam. If he’s looking to pussyfoot around, it’s his goddamned lucky day. But what if it gives him ideas and I wake up one night to him hovering above me wielding a meat cleaver in one hand and a needle and thread in the other? (This is how my mind works.)
No, I’m afraid Claydam’s just going to have to discover the Vajankle on his own. However, something tells me destiny will bring these two together, because clearly this is a match made in fetish heaven. And remember, I totally believe in soul mates now.
Categories: True Story