To Feet or Not to Feet

There are a wide variety of kinks out there, from tickling and humiliation to scat and water sports; I try to be open-minded and not judge most of the time, but one that particularly makes me uncomfortable is a foot fetish. I recently watched the television adaption of Fellow Travelers; as hot as I find Jonathan Bailey to be, the scene where he was sucking on Matt Bomer's toes irked me. I'd sooner die than have anyone's toes in my mouth; I've been skeeved out by feet for as long as I can remember, possibly because in the seventh grade, we were having a discussion in science class and someone said that no matter how much you wash your feet, they inherently carry bacteria, yeast, and fungi. A study from the BBC found that people who washed their feet twice daily had an estimated 8,800 bacteria living in every square centimeter of their skin; that is far too many bacteria for me to even be willing to consider making contact with my mouth or hands. I wouldn't say that I am a full-fledged germaphobe, after all, I live with a clowder of cats; I allow them to sleep in my bed and on my pillows, I give them kisses and hold them in my lap. I convince myself that as long as I'm not making direct mouth-to-mouth contact with my cats - absolutely no sharing of food - then I'm avoiding the most disgusting, devious germs.

A couple of years ago, I was enjoying finally living on my own and was going hard on Grindr; I was on almost constantly, trying to find a hookup or a potential date. One evening, I spotted a new user; he was older than I by a few years but was very handsome. He bore a striking resemblance to Ryan Gosling; while I've never found Ryan Gosling to be extremely hot - I much prefer Ryan Reynolds - I would never say that he is unattractive. I decided to message the Ryan Gosling doppelganger, even though I figured he'd either block me, leave me on read, or tell me he wasn't interested, after all, extremely attractive guys rarely want anything to do with me. To my utter surprise, he responded and was actually nice, or at least, nicer than I had figured he'd be. We had enough of a rapport that the conversation continued and I was interested, but his tone was cold, aloof, almost condescending at times. It can be so hard to interpret tone and sarcasm when texting someone online, so I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt.

I learned that his name was Nicholai and that he was staying in the area for an indefinite amount of time; he had previously lived in San Francisco, but a family member was severely ill, and he'd moved here to help take care of them. I like a guy with a big heart - it's the second most important body part that I prefer to be big. I wanted to actually get to know him, possibly go on a date, but I didn't want to ask him out, in case he rejected me. After all, doesn't everyone hate rejection? Humiliation is a kink - another one that I cannot understand - so who knew how many kinks that are out there have yet to crawl from the closet, brought into the daylight of the cultural zeitgeist. Is it possible that someone could have a rejection kink? I couldn't help but wonder: is there some secret society of people out there whose kink is rejection?

We exchanged social media handles. Over the course of the weekend, I did my best to keep him engaged; the last thing I wanted was for him to lose interest and go find someone else, someone hotter. My aunt dropped off an envelope of pictures of me --ranging from infant to probably eight or nine, maybe ten - the ones that I found the most adorable I sent to Nicholai, just to include him in my excitement; I've always loved finding new pictures from my life, especially the very early years. I was shocked when his response was ice cold; he told me that it was far too early for me to showing him my baby pictures, that that wasn't appropriate until after we'd been on dates and were officially dating. I disagreed but bit my tongue because I didn't want to cause an issue so soon into getting to know each other. I found the act of sharing baby pictures to be innocent, but I could see how it could be construed as awkward and uncomfortable.

We talked throughout the weekend, and then, on Sunday night, we were getting a little racier than we had previously. I asked him what he was into; the truth was, I was still finding out what turned me on. I had gone from living at home where my stepdad would have kicked me out if he'd found out I was doing anything sexual with a guy, to living with my grandmother. At least, while I was living with my grandma, I could have a guy over when she was out of town, or sneak someone out to the woods late at night. I'd even used the spacious back seat of my Lincoln to meet up with a guy or two if the mood struck me. Even so, I still hadn't had much of an opportunity to find out what really turned me on besides sucking dick and a completely random pounding of the guy that I'd lost my virginity to.

Nicholai reminded me that he was from San Francisco, where everyone was extremely kinky, but explained that he was into feet and cum. As soon as I read that he was into feet, I felt myself deflate like a balloon. I really could not understand how someone could be turned on by feet. I didn't want to offend him or appear judgmental, so I replied saying that while I was personally grossed out by feet, I didn't hold it against anyone that found them hot. I did my best to explain that I hated feet because I felt that mine were so gross, hoping to soften the blow even further. I failed.

Nicholai went into an angry rant about how I was a piece of shit for kink shaming him. No matter how many times that I apologized, and tried to reaffirm that I wasn't judging him, that it was a me issue, he would not calm down. It turned into an exchange of hurtful words and then he blocked me.

I have always strived to acknowledge when I'm in the wrong, but in this specific case I feel like I had done absolutely nothing wrong. How insecure could Nicholai have been in his own guilty pleasure that he had to make me the villain for not agreeing with him? I like getting rimmed, but there are plenty of guys out there that aren't into it and think it's disgusting; I don't lose my mind on them and accuse them of being narrow-minded assholes and kink shaming me for not liking the same thing I do. Honestly, I wasn't that surprised - I have a hard time making real connections as it is - but I had allowed myself to hope; just like with the majority of the time in the affairs of the heart, I was disappointed.

Honestly, I was relieved when he blocked me. I had made it explicitly clear that I was not judging him for his kink; I was allowed to have my own opinion on the matter. For someone closer to forty, I had expected far more maturity and rationality than Nicholai clearly possessed. After all, as long as we live in a world of free speech and freedom of thought, there's always going to be someone who doesn't agree with or like the same things that you do. Nicholai's complete inability to handle a difference of opinion showed me just how immature he was; I could not have been more grateful that I had seen his true colors, especially before we'd gotten out of the flirting stage. The sad truth was, if he had handled it more maturely and we had ended up dating, I would have let him do whatever he wanted to my feet, but it would have solely for his pleasure. Once again, I should have listened to my gut and gone with my initial assessment of his character: it's always flattering when someone tells you that you resemble an undeniably attractive celebrity, but not everyone takes it to the level that Nicholai did: pictures of Ryan Gosling on his profile, eating up the attention that he no doubt received for the passing resemblance, dyeing his hair platinum blond to match the Barbie era Ryan Gosling. The older I get, the more I realize that I seem to be drawn to narcissists; I have yet to figure out if this intrinsic pull is because I am, myself, a narcissist, or if it's just more common in the gay community.

Later that year, I matched with a handsome guy named Joseph on Tinder. I found it odd that we matched because he lived in Florida and I was in Michigan; we exchanged Snapchat usernames and moved the conversation there. I found him incredibly handsome, which was odd because, while he was tall, thin, and universally good-looking, he had hazel eyes and light brown/blond hair. One thing that every guy I've ever been into has had in common is dark brown/black hair and dark brown eyes. Something about dark, chocolate brown eyes makes me melt like butter.

I knew that nothing would ever really happen between us; I hate travelling, not only a side effect of my touchy stomach, but also my general anxiety and agoraphobia. Still, I enjoyed chatting with him and getting to know him better. I was surprised to learn that not only was he incredibly handsome and kind, but he was also genius-level smart. He often posted Snapchat stories of himself explaining physics and even created his own formula; he composed his own music on a keyboard.

Over the course of our virtual friendship in the years that have followed, I also learned that he was into racing -- he raced on weekends - and that he was the most hopeless romantic in the world. I found myself wishing - on more than one occasion - that I had the guts to ask about going to see him. It was true that I hated flying and that with my tempestuous stomach traveling was avoided whenever possible, I could make the exception for a great guy, especially a great guy that lit up my life simply by existing.

It has recently come to my attention that Joseph has a foot fetish. I couldn't help but remember the disaster that was my short courtship with Nicholai; I decided to ask Joseph if he'd be okay with being interviewed about it and putting it here in my column; he graciously accepted, like the wonderful guy that he is.

We considered doing the interview over the phone or via video chat, but with our opposing schedules and my never knowing if I'm going to have one of my IBS attacks, we agreed that it would be better to just chat on Snapchat.

Q: When did it start for you? Was it an innate part of your personality growing up? Or did it develop with the onset of puberty?

A: It was innate.

Q: How did you discover it?

A: Through puberty when I started to fully realize my attraction to other men.

Q: What do you like to do with feet?

A: Look at them, smell them, suck them - on very special occasions - see how they're used.

Q: Is it a requirement for you when it comes to sex? Is it an every time thing or once in a while?

A: No. Once in a while. It's more recreational than tied directly to love-making.

Q: You mentioned in one of your Snap stories that the first thing you do when you get home is take off your shoes and socks and sniff your feet; do your own feet turn you on?

A: No, but the scent is nice and reassuring.

Q: Are there specific circumstances in which you wouldn't want anything to do with your partner's feet?

A: Yes; a circumstance in which I am not attracted to their feet.

Q: Have you ever had a foot job? If not, is that something that you're interested in?

A: No, and I am, but it has to be right.

Q: What specifically makes feet attractive to you?

A: The shape of them. The smell especially. The thought of them just being used and supporting a person. Feet can be hot, cute, even endearing. Almost like a person's face; they can tell a story.

Q: Could you be satisfied in a relationship if your partner wasn't willing to indulge your foot fetish? Or if they tried it once, didn't like it, and refused to do it again.

A: Yes, but not in the open. I'd still take pictures, smell them while they're sleeping, etc.

As I wrapped up my interview with Joseph, I couldn't help but feel immensely grateful that he was mentally and emotionally mature enough to be so open with his answers, knowing fully well that I was not into feet. When I had initially told him about my acerbic interaction with Nicholai, he'd assured me that I had handled it well, that I was not responsible for Nicholai's immense insecurities with his kink. It wasn't that I'd held onto that for all this time, driving myself insane trying to figure out if I was, in fact, in the wrong, but knowing that I could have a civil conversation with someone with the same kinks and not get mentally abused and gaslighted into thinking that I was the problem, was honestly refreshing.

I can't say that my overall opinion on foot fetishes has changed, but hearing Joseph's thoughts on the matter definitely shed a new light on something that had heretofore been a complete mystery to me. I'm more comfortable with the idea of allowing my feet to be "worshipped" should I ever find myself with a foot fetish guy; my one stipulation would be that there would certainly be no kissing after any kind of oral contact with my feet. But if some cute guy wants to rub my feet, maybe even sniff and/or lick them, who am I to say no? As long as I am not expected to participate in any manner other than allowing it to happen, I would be willing to indulge my partner's fetish.

I haven't heard anything new from Nicholai in a while; we haven't spoken since that last night, but the gay pond in my area is extremely small, so we all kind of know each other, or at least have each other as friends on Facebook. Not long after he bitched me out, he began to pop up on one of my 'friend's' accounts - in pictures together and tagged posts. I would be lying if I said that I wasn't curious to see how he played with other gays. The 'friend' in question was a guy in his mid-twenties named Sai. We had never met in person, but I was drawn to his brown curly hair and dark brown eyes, but also the general other-ness about him. Unlike the majority of the people in this area - gay, straight, male, female, black, white, etc., - he wasn't an ignorant red-neck. He appreciated Madonna as much as I did, and loved Mariah Carey - not as much as I - and was generally kind to me. I had heard rumors that he had terrible body odor, but watching his life in pictures on Facebook, it seemed like if that were true, someone would have told the guy by now.

They went hot and heavy for a summer - appearing a lot together on Facebook - thought it was never confirmed if they were just friends or if they had hooked up; I assumed they had. But then, suddenly, Nicholai stopped appearing in the pictures and ceased getting tagged in posts. I can only speculate, but I would feel safe assuming that Nicholai had burned that bridge, though it was not uncommon for friends to come and go like hot cakes in Sai's world, at least from what it looks like. I had heard another rumor that he used people for whatever he could get from them. Honestly, that one lined up for me; I hadn't been able to figure out how a young college student without a job was constantly going on trips all over the world. Maybe his parents had money and were funding his cosmopolitan lifestyle - certainly not anything that was any business of mine. Maybe he just went through life taking what he could get, surviving on the kindness and foolishness of others.

I had to do some deep digging, but I was able to find Nicholai's current Facebook account. I wasn't stalking him, but I do like to check up one people from my past, just to see if they're well and happy; I rarely hold onto any vitriol for too long. In a perverse way, I get a thrill out of knowing that I had played a role - however minor - in that person's life; it's comforting to view them as the real people that they are instead of keeping them in my mind as a fragmented, highly imaginative memory that gets recalled in passing. At some point, he moved back to San Francisco; neither of the friends that we have in common is Sai, so it looks as though whatever transpired between them had burnt out quickly.

In the end, I hope that everyone gets what they want; as long as the kink doesn't involve animals, children, or rape, I very much support someone getting their rocks off however they choose. Above all, I hope that Nicholai can find peace and happiness in his foot fetish; it must be hard to go through life being insecure because you like something that is considered taboo. Everyone deserves to have their kink(s) without shame or ridicule, unless, of course, that's your thing. If I were a more adventurous person, I'd be more open to trying more kink wise, but when you spend a great amount of time and effort trying to control your anxiety and act 'normal' around others, it can be extremely draining. The curiosity does not trump the reality for me; perhaps if I found the right person to experiment with, I'd loosen up a little and see what's what, after all, just because you try something doesn't mean that you have like it or do it again. Sex, just like most everything in life is about trial and error: finding out what works for you, where your strengths are, what needs improvement. What's the harm in a little innocent experimentation?