“The Bachelorette.”
I watch it and I hate myself.
Quite honestly, I want to fling myself off a bridge every Monday night now. But after “The Bachelorette” is over. I blame it on my sister-in-law because she expects me to be up-to-date on these things so we can discuss, you know, the deep issues the show brings to light.
Like the f-o-o-t fetish.
Yup. Dude on the show has a major f-o-o-t fetish and he’s been FREAKING me out for three weeks now. That’s all he can talk about.
“I need to see her feet.”
Uh-oh.
“I can’t decide how I feel about her until I see her feet.”
Seriously?
“If her feet aren’t cute, I’m outta here. I can’t go on.”
Drama queen.
“Ohhhhhh … those are some niiiiiice feet.”
I feel icky.
“I need to touch those feet. I gotta GET with those feet.”
Uhm …. I’m confused.
“Those feet are like a 9.5 out of 10. Change the polish to a nice mango, and it’s a 10.”
Oh, okay. I’m less confused now. “A nice mango”? You’re gay.
But thank the blessed baby Jesus, F-o-o-t Fetish Dude got dumped last night and I really think he was more disappointed about losing her feet than losing her.
Although here I am, judging F-o-o-t Fetish Dude while I’m watching it all, so I’m pretty sure this makes me some kind of accomplice to a f-o-o-t fetish and means I need to rethink, well, everything basically.
Please forgive me for watching this show, talking about f-o-o-t fetishes, and for this entire post. I don’t feel good about any of it. I really don’t.
(Dashes in the word “foot” added thanks to Cullen’s comment. Don’t really want f-o-o-t fetish Googlers showing up here. Thanks for having my back, Cullen.)