August 2014. Friday night. Girls’ night. We were so excited! It was me and four of my cousins, Queen B and Cheese included, who aren’t blood related to me, but the four of them are actually first cousins. Do you feel me? Filipinos, I tell you; we’re all “related”.
I had just gotten back from California, shaken off most of the Burger Boy “ghosting” residue, and I was leaving for Greece just over a week later, so this in-between girl time was much needed.
Anyway, we were heading downtown and couldn’t wait. Our boy hooked us up at this bar in Liberty Village. The venue was small and intimate. We got a table right at the front. We got a free bottle of champagne from the owner. The music was just right. We were all feeling good. We danced the night away and guys were chatting us up, but we didn’t give a shit about them. We were there for us. Bottle after bottle came to our table.
At one point the DJ was pumping salsa music. I felt someone’s hand grab mine and we started dancing. He was cute and you could tell he really enjoyed dancing. The one thing that annoyed me at was he kept saying “show me what you got”. If you’re a good dancer, sure, egg me on; but he fucking sucked. I was nice enough not to laugh in his face.
As the night went on, he kept coming back to talk/dance with me and the girls. I continued to tell him that I wasn’t going to abandon them. He would back off and then he would come back. None of us really paid him too much attention; but he was fucking persistent.
At one point he looked down at my feet (I had strappy sandals on) and he was ecstatic over how nice he thought my toes were. He even shone his cellphone flashlight on them so he could get a better look. I told him that was fucked up, but he didn’t care. He talked about my feet to my cousin too and she just thought he was fucked. Hahahaha!
As the lights turned on in the bar, we hurried to finish the last bottle of vodka. We literally ended up pouring it down people’s throats.
When we walked out, the Firefighter followed suit. He asked for my number and then asked for a kiss. I drunkenly obliged, and it was not good. He was a terrible kisser; but I chalked it up to my inebriation.
He phoned the next day and we made plans to meet for breakfast.
We met up at Sunset Grill in Pickering. It was busy. When I walked in, there he was reading the newspaper. I was nervous. He had salt and pepper hair. His arms were tattooed. He was attractive. We sat and had a decent conversation. It was a nice morning “date”. He was 45. Divorced. No kids. Lived in a condo next to the Skydome. He was a huge Blue Jays and Toronto FC fan. He was also a real estate agent on the side. I was impressed with his stats. He walked me to my car afterward and then invited me to watch a Jay’s game later that week. I agreed, we hugged and parted ways.
That Friday I took the train downtown and we met up at a bar for a drink before the game. He seemed sweet. We talked for a bit and walked over to the dome. He got us great seats, 100 level, between third and home. He was pretty affectionate; holding my hand, wrapping his arms around me when we were standing in line. We drank the day away and we were both feeling good by the time the game was over.
We walked back to his place where we had more drinks and he kissed me. Our make-out session was a terrible experience. I thought that maybe it wouldn’t be like the first time, when we drunkenly kissed outside of the bar. I was wrong. The firefighter’s kiss was gross and memorable. It’s like he was cleaning my teeth. His tongue ran along the roof of my mouth and across my teeth and gums. He mixed it up by darting his tongue against mine like we were duelling. It was fucking horrible.
I left shortly after the gross kiss. I was leaving for Greece the next morning and had to take the last train home.
My trip was phenomenal. I spent five days with friends in Athens and 10 days sailing on the water, island hopping. It is a gorgeous place. When I had access to WIFI, the Firefighter and I messaged each other through WhatsApp and even had a few phone conversations. It was fine. He sent me pics of him and his boys riding their motorcycles out west. I was discovering that he was full of himself. Great.
When I returned at the end of August, we saw each other almost immediately. The kissing was still terrible, and so was the sex, but it was at least entertaining. He was a foot guy. He was obsessed. It didn’t matter what angle we were fucking at, he almost always managed to get some, if not all, of my toes in his mouth. He loved cumming while he sucked on my feet. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy a nice foot rub and having my toes sucked from time to time. This shit wasn’t enjoyable because he was aggressive and I don’t like my feet being the focal point during sex. He was also “that guy” who thinks women can cum on command. He was always demanding, “cum with me! Cum with me!” I faked it just to get it over with. Like, fuck off. He thought he was so good. I had some good laughs with my girls about this one.
We hung out here and there for another couple of weeks; hitting up another Jay’s game and a Toronto FC game. The sex was always the same. There was barely any foreplay and he mostly fucked my feet and sucked on my toes. I think out of the handful of times we were intimate I might’ve had one orgasm, maybe two. That’s no way to live.
He was attractive and fun to have drinks with, but that was it. He was conceded and materialistic and I wouldn’t feed his ego. All of these things, including the foot obsession, added up to the end. We just weren’t that into each other.
He continued to send me messages out of the blue until summer of last year. He just wanted to get wasted and “see where the night goes”. I never took him up on his offers. The idea of ending the night with a tooth-cleaning and my feet getting fucked made me shudder.
Duration = 2 months
Lesson(s) Learned:
- Fucking a firefighter is overrated.
- If a man you meet focuses on your feet the moment you meet him, it is very likely he has a foot fetish.
Lollllll foot fetishes are a HARD pass