Freaky Friday

Happy Friday, everyone. Thought I'd start off today's post with a jovial anecdote of the freaky dude I dated not too long ago. Seemed nice, decent package, could talk in complete sentences...but he had this thing about feet. Not a foot fetish, but the exact opposite. He HATED feet. Any type, big or small, pedicured or au natural. If your feet came within a foot of him (haw haw) he totally wigged out. Like would run screaming from the room. I learned this the hard way when we were snuggling on the couch and I made the fatal mistake of running my bare foot (quite cute and normal, may I add) along his lower leg. You would have thought I had casually taken out an ice pick and started carving out his freckles. Needless to say, that relationship did not have a long shelf life.
Then there was the time that Enrique, a hot-blooded latino man, proudly furnished a pair of nipple clips on our first date. Or the guy who asked me, in all sincerity, to come over at 2AM, break into his house, leave all the lights off, not say a single word, and assault him in the bedroom. Oh jeez, here I go blabbing on and on about me--tell me, how are you?