"You know, in some cultures touching a person's foot is a sign of respect and devotion."
I look over the top of my magazine to see Justin cutting his toenails on the coffee table. Every morning I put my coffee and bagel in that exact spot. A shudder runs down the small of my back. "Is that so?" I mutter back. Justin nods at me and the snic of the clippers sends Freddy Mercury flying into my head singing another one bites the dust. I smirk.
"Yes. In certain Indian beliefs- the tantric in particular, I think- the human and the divine intersect in the foot. By touching someones foot you are paying respect to the divine in that person. By letting you touch their foot, that person is giving you the honor of communing with their divine."
I let his words hang in the air for a long moment before sending an acknowledging grunt in his general direction and disappearing behind my magazine. Britney Spears is walking barefoot into a public restroom. Spectacular, the universe and Justin are conspiring against me.
"You know, I don't know what your problem is with feet." Snic. Another one bites the dust. Smirk. "You have lovely feet when you finally pry off that Manolo armor you wear all the time."
I heave a big sigh and flip the magazine page. Why he insists on discussing feet when he knows I hate it... Another sigh, another flip of the magazine. Snic.
"All right, all right I give up. The white flag is raised. It's just that I wanted to show my respect and devotion to your divine spirit but if you don't consider me worthy enough then it's ok. I get it. I'll just be over here-weeping- in the corner."
I roll my eyes heavenward at the hang dog look he's giving me. "You are so full of shit" I tell him. I can't help grinning though as I say it. This cheeseball boy who drives me up the wall has also curled up in a tiny ball in my heart and I can deny him nothing. "You know what Justin?"
"I'd totally take my shoes off for you."