oh, and the foot fetishist

double post day...

I have to tell you about my run in with the aggressive foot fetishist, here in words for posterity. picture it, south philly, 2008. (RIP estelle.) I left a party at todd and theresa's at about 3:35 to go to my car to go home. I get to 4th and queen and a dude asks me for the time. so I give it to him and start to cross the street. he follows me and catches up and kind of jumps in my way and says "I didn't know it was that late". I keep walking. he kind of tugs on my arm and asks me if I ever heard that if a woman's second toe is bigger than her big toe, it's a sign of intelligence. now, the way he's talking to me, I thought there was something wrong with him. like, he was shifty and looking down and kind of rocking back and forth a little. so I just said that was interesting and started walking again. I only took a step or so when he tugged my arm again. that's when the alarm bells really started ringing. we were all the way across the street now, out of the street light, in front of an alley. so then he asks me if I was leaving a club, or a party, or what. I said I was leaving a party and again started to walk away. a more urgent tug, more of a firm one, and he asked if I really thought the toe thing was interesting, and wasn't I glad that I knew that now? it was something I didn't know before that, right? then he reaches down and strokes my second toe, saying "and I saw you have a toe ring and..." which is when I couldn't really concentrate. then he grabbed my foot. and it wasn't for an extremely long period of time, but it was a firm grip, and I looked at that alley, and I realized I was off balance, and I was just scared shitless. I thought, oh my god, I'm going to be...foot raped? whatever, this dude's gonna whip it out and chop my foot off for a souvenir. I had my keys in my hand and put the points in my knuckles, but here's where the instinct diverges between men and women, I think. all the dudes asked me why I didn't sock him or just tell him to leave me the fuck alone. and here's what they didn't understand - if a dude starts fondling me, I'm not going to provoke him. I piss him off, I may take him to the next level. like, if he was only thinking of chopping my foot off, now he's gonna. or if he already planned to be violent, now it's gonna be worse. and if I punch him in the face but only manage a glancing blow, he's going to be pissed no matter what his intentions were. so I pulled my foot away, and he started following me again, but I was not stopping. I wasn't running, I didn't want to piss him off, and he was yelling after me stuff about did I leave the party because no one would tickle my feet, and was it because I hated it? (which, that was creepy too because wouldn't you want to know if it were because I really wanted to be tickled? it just kinda reinforces the idea that he wanted to do something against my will.) anyways, as soon as I was out of reach, I got my cell phone out (it was in my back pocket but I didn't pull it out because I didn't want him to potentially grab it out of my hands) and called jon and asked him to meet me at my car. and my voice was shaking alot by then. so he calls me a few minutes later, when I was crouched down in my car, and asked what happened. as I was telling him, I see todd run up the other side of the street. so I beep my horn and get out, and here comes nadav at full speed. and then jon and lester. calvary. they looked for the dude (late 30s, 40s, bleached jeans, white reeboks, yellow fake silk button down shirt, brillo hair. basically john oates from hall and oates without the mustache) and then made me call the cops. I gave that description over the phone and they said they'd send someone out, which after almost a half hour, they didn't.

so there I am, with 4 guys that came to my rescue, and now I have to tell them that what got me so freaked out was...a foot fetishist. an aggressive foot fetishist. I am actually giggling now as I write it. I mean, at the time, it was scary as hell, but now, I mean...a foot fetishist? who the hell does that happen to?? what are the fucking chances???? the guys were so nice about it though. I would have probably laughed at me. and they probably did when they left. oh well, what are you gonna do?

but now I know how intelligent I am. I mean, my second toe is totally longer than my big toe. so thank you, john oates foot dude, for showing me the way.

1 validations:

NME said...

Bleached jeans, white reeboks and yellow fake silk button down shirt? It should have been obvious he was troubled.
So glad something more serious didn't happen.