Dating Diaries: He Told Me, He Had To Suck My Toes. For Wetin!- Carina’s story

Carina is a 32-year-old software engineer. She says “I dress ‘normal,’ as the Gap exhorts, but if the occasion calls for something a bit daring, I can swing fishnets or sequins.” Carina says “I love people, but to balance that out I spend a fair amount of time alone. I’m an extroverted introvert.” For fun, Carina likes to “meander through Admiralty Road, Lekki or just go stare at the beach.” She says “Dating has become like a part-time job, but at least I’m learning a lot.”

I met Richard on online. We established a comfort level by phone first, and then we asked each other out.
He picked me up for the date in a nice, new car, which signified reliability to me, and which I took to be a good sign. When I got in, I realized that he wasn’t as relaxed or as handsome as he appeared in his photos. Perhaps I’m not, either; perhaps no one is.

We went to a chain restaurant. It was large, loud and full of families. I was surprised that Rob had suggested it, especially since we live in a city with amazingly diverse culinary possibilities. I ordered a glass of juice. Right away, the vibe was awkward and unromantic, and the conversation was super-stilted. We talked about our weeks, about work, and about other online dating experiences.

Dinner was over in record time, maybe thirty minutes. Rob lived nearby, and he asked me to have another drink at his place. When we got there, he turned on some music and asked if he could give me a foot massage. Pre-date, during one of our phone conversations, he had asked if I liked foot massages. I had heard this, but didn’t really hear it for what it was. I had replied “Sure,” thinking, who doesn’t?

He had laughed and said he had “a bit of a foot fetish.” Lots of men say this; in fact, most if not all men enjoy a fresh pedicure. It’s pretty basic. I feel like the phrase “foot fetish” has been so mainstreamed that it’s lost its true sexual connotation.

Rob had my foot in his hand for maybe thirty seconds before he put it in his mouth. I will never be able to delete from my memory the contortion his mouth made to accommodate all my toes at once. I was transfixed. It all happened so quickly that I couldn’t express my surprise.

He only tongued my foot for a few seconds, really, and then looked at me and asked if I liked it. I had to say that I didn’t. He looked crestfallen, and I told him that while it didn’t feel bad, it just felt like nothing.

I have had more than a few men confront me with their fetishes in the Internet dating sphere, and it never goes well. When you are in love, you will do whatever your partner sweetly asks for, within reason, but when someone’s a stranger to you, their demands seem egotistical and alienating.

There’s a catch-22 for a person with a fetish who wants to be upfront about it. I have a lot of empathy for that. We talked about all of this, while my foot remained wet with his saliva, and freezing cold because the condo air conditioning was on arctic blast and there was no carpet to discreetly wipe it on.

Later, he drove me home, and we parted with tight smiles and polite nods. Even if I had been more attracted to him, I don’t think I fit his needs in the foot department.

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