Because it’s not unusual for gay dudes, or footishists to email me, I didn’t really think twice about it. Truth is, I figured it was bullshit and just some horny homo toe-sucker wanting to see if I’d reply. Every day I get emails from both men and women offering me money for one thing or another. I typically just delete them and go on with my day. Unless you’re a hot, wealthy chick who wants to subsidize my life while I finish my book, I probably don’t care (If you are, please let me know cuz I am definitely marriage material). For whatever reason, I decided to reply to this particular email with, “Make me an offer”. Minutes later I get a reply that says, “How about $150 for a pair of your shoes??? or more??”. I don’t bother to reply.

See, I’m an self-promoting attention whore. At points in my life I’ve also been a man-whore. I’ve even been a whore-monger. What I’ve never been is a foot whore, nor shall I ever be one. Remember, I don’t even like feet, my own included. Moments later I got a second email from the guy that read, “I can pay up to $250 for a pair of your shoes if you want.”

Sold. I’m a foot whore.

Fuck it. Two fitty is two fitty. Say I’m gross, I dare you. Cuz if you were walking down the street in some old ass pair of your sneakers and I strolled up with two hundred fifty bucks cash, then offered it to you for those old kicks, you’d be barefoot in about 2 seconds. If you say you wouldn’t do it you’re either a liar or a fucking retard. Or both. So don’t be a lying retard and just admit that you’d give up the shoes for the dough.

Now, one of my friends said to me, “That’s sick. You know he’s going to jerk off in those shoes.” No shit, really? I thought he was paying all that money cuz he wanted a pair of dogs that were worn in so they’d be really really comfortable. I don’t care if he jerks off in them, makes soup in them, or takes em to Vegas for a quickie wedding. For an additional cost I’ll be the best man, the ring bearer or the goddamn flower girl. Once you’ve sold your shoes to a stranger with a sexual fetish, how much worse can it get? Do I care if he drops a load onto my laces? Hell no. I don’t care if he’s gellin like a felon. It’s not like I’m gonna take the shoes back and wear em. Look, in all seriousness, I’m not actually a foot whore. I’m more like a, well, a sneaker pimp. It’s my shoes that are the whore. Funny, they’re almost exactly like my ex-girlfriend. I kept them around because they were comfortable even though they were dirty and useless, and now they’re both getting ejaculated on by strangers. The only difference is that anything you’d catch from fucking my shoes is easily cured with tough actin’ Tinactin.

Overall it’s really just some bizarre shit. I don’t understand people with a foot fetish or what turns them on about it, but who am I to judge. If you want to rub my ancient Air Jordans on your ball sack, have at it. I could use the cash. Anybody else want some shoes, or some dirty socks? I’ll gladly wear them to the gym a few times then let you and I can become pals…Paypals. It’s not like I’m letting you come over and suck on my toes while you jack off.

Not for a measly 250 bucks.

As I was writing this blog today I looked up and realized that I’d been hiding a dark secret. A few days ago my rocker roomie left a bottle of black nail polish sitting on the coffee table so, in a moment of strange inspiration, I did this…

You have to admit, I do have pretty feet.

I was thinking about how I have a closet full of old shoes and wondering if there’s a market for em. Hell, maybe I’ll start a new business where foot-folks can buy me a new pair of shoes and send them to me with some cash. I’ll wear the shoes for a month and send em back. I get new gear all the time and they join the Sexy-Shoe-Of-The-Month-Club. Maybe this is what can subsidize the writing of my book. But just shoes might not be enough. I know there’s a big foot fetish market out there, I’m just not sure how to tap into it. Perhaps I’ll figure out a way to diversify.

Who’s in the market for some used boxer briefs?