Okay — another freaky dude messaging me on Facebook today. My latest stalker is from Turkey. He addressed me as his “Goddess” so I can’t fault him there. He offered to “kneel at my altar” (and I don’t think I want to know the double entendre possibilities with that little suggestion). As I was reaching for the “block” button, he gave me cause to pause — and here it comes…he offers to massage my feet!
Now ladies, we all know that the TRUE way to our hearts (besides diamonds, cars, and separate vacations) is through our feet. If men would massage their women’s feet, their sex lives would improve expeditiously. So I guess you could say that where my male readers are concerned, please consider this a public service announcement. Don’t believe me? How about at some point today, try looking deep into your lady’s eyes and say “Baby, you are a Goddess, I would like to kneel at your altar. Can I rub your goddessy feet, my little slice of Heaven?” You’ll be surprised how fast that little act of “manipulation” will come back to you tenfold — and probably in the form of things she hasn’t entertained in years! She’ll be buck naked on top of the washing machine in very short order.
So as I pondered Mr. Turkey Feet’s generous, albeit, creepy offer, J.B. looks over at me and says “What are you thinking about, baby? You are both smiling and trembling at the same time…what is it?” And I say “This dude from Turkey thinks I’m a Goddess and wants to kneel at my altar and rub my feet.” J.B. considers this for a moment and says “Well, he’d have to have exceptionally long arms to reach all the way from Turkey…I say, let him! My hands are still tired from last night.” J.B. is a practical sort of Dude. So, he leans over to read the screen as I am in the process of “blocking” Kneeling Man.
But as the athleticism of my former cheerleading gig NEVER left this particular goddess, I simultaneously lifted and ever-so-delicately laid my cherubic foot in JB’s lap.
J.B. groans and says, “I guess I still have job security in this.” And I say, “Yes you do…I’ll meet you in the laundry room later.”