Baring my soles

Tonight after work, while gazing into a store window admiring the display, a man approached me. He handed me a card and immediately went into a pitch that he had very obviously given many times to many women on many streets. Living in the city, my initial reaction to these kinds of approaches is "Which excuse can I give to get out of this as soon as possible? I'm late for something? I don't have any cash on me? I'll be sure to check it out, thank you, bye?"

But this time it was different. This guy wanted to take video of the soles of my feet. Five minutes of video, to be precise. Oh, and the "dirtier and nastier the better". I was intrigued. And he had cards. Professional, customized, glossy cards. So I heard him out. Apparently he's pitching a pilot to HBO about how flaws, idiosyncrasies, quirks, bad habits, etc. are beautiful and that when beautiful women have flaws it doesn't detract from the beauty. I can get on board with that. Still a bit cheesy and far-fetched for my taste, but who really cares. And he said he picked his company name in an attempt to sound "rich and jewish", and I love Jews.

I remembered reading something somewhere about a woman who had a boy approach her asking to take pictures of her feet for a "school project" and later found out that the photos of her feet ended up on a fetish porn site. The woman in the story was embarrassed and upset. I was okay with the idea. Because if someone is watching video of my the soles of my feet on YouTube as part of a low-budget TV pilot for some weird show or watching video of my feet on a foot fetish porn site to get off to, does it really make a difference? Nah. And if you can get off to video of dirty feet, well then be my guest.

So, I took off my shoes and showed him the soles of my feet. He said they looked red and tired but not quite dirty and stinky enough and asked me when was the next time I would be able to wear my stinkiest shoes. Sunday, I said. So, I told him maybe I'd email him and wear my stinkiest shoes and meet him on Haight Street on Sunday.

Wait, what?