Happy Toes and the Ginger-Ale Harp Seal?

A comment I received to my sandal photo below prompted me to now respond in more detail about a topic that I have heretofore been loathe to discuss in a public forum. The subculture of toe worshippers (or “foot freaks” as an ex-beau of mine liked to refer to them). Of course, there are all kinds. Leg men, toe men, foot men, sole men, hosiery freaks, latex freaks, you name it, they love it.

Peaches dropped me a link to a toe site where her (shod) foot can be seen. Now, I’ve only ever been on mytoes.com. There is also another site called fannytoes.com. (Acidman, are you writing all this down?!). My ex-boyfriend (the Andrew Weil look-alike) was just such a “foot freak.” Before I left him (it was a bitter and ugly breakup, more so on his part), I managed to get all (I HOPE) of my foot photos that he took (there were about 100) back from him. He had them hidden, but since I owed him some money for that month’s rent, we “came to an agreement.” Why I never chunked them in the trash or set them on fire is a mystery to me. Instead, I put the photos away in a box in the back of my closet until about six months ago when another friend of mine suggested that I submit some of my photos to the mytoes.com site. So I did. I’ve never done any of this for profit and probably never would. But it was fun, seeing an innocent part of your body on the Internet. And that must have been why I subconsciously chose this blog template (the red platforms and red toenails) for my own.

So I have my ex to thank for all of this. But he wasn’t content to just look at pretty feet, although he did that quite frequently, and made no attempts to hide the fact that he was in Full Ogle Mode whenever any woman’s bare feet came into view. He also liked women’s SHOES. He didn’t wear them or anything, but he loved to smell them. Now, I’m sorry, but that is just gross. There’s no other word for it. A funny story about this is after I moved out, I was missing some of my items, a jacket and a couple of ceramic jardineires that I figured were out in the garage. I figured the jacket was in his closet somewhere. Before I moved out, I sorted all the stuff I wanted to keep and pitched the rest. This included a good number of my shoes.

So when I returned to his house one evening to make one last pass around the place looking for forgotten gear, I made a bee line into the bedroom to look for my jacket (it was my favorite one, but since it was a tweed, and it was the middle of June when I left, it just slipped my mind). Well, while rooting around in the closet, I stepped on something. It was a leaf and lawn bag. I bent down to feel of it. Felt heavy. I opened it. By this time, he’d come into the room, was standing in the doorway of the walk-in closet, and attempted to snatch the bag away from me. No way! I opened up the sack and peered in. SHOES!!! All my old shoes that I distinctly remember taking out to the trash weeks ago! Apparently, he’d been dumpster diving and come across that cache of loot. Never in my wildest dreams would I have believe my old shoes would have been the source of such preoccupation. But there you have it. I don’t understand it, but there it is.

I don’t know what the guy is up to today, but that was before the advent of e-Bay. It wouldn’t surprise me if there isn’t some little niche on the Internet where women’s used shoes (right along with the used panties) can be had for a small price…. Eeeck. Anyway, the shoe’s off the foot and the cat’s out of the bag.

(I have to confess that when choosing a domain name for myself (see recent post), the name “toebabe.com” popped up as being available. I just may have to snare that one too. Gee, mother would have been proud. An internet toe porn goddess.)

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