Love is complicated by sex. Sex is complicated by love. I prefer when things aren’t complicated but my life was anything but simple. I wonder if you know what it feels like to have everyone around you expect something from you or have an ideal image of you? That’s what my life was like around that time. I was struggling to be what everyone wanted, forcing myself to fit into the images they saw and caught up in a complicated act.
On that particular day, I had had too much of everything and all I wanted to do was run away; simply start all over. I couldn’t run away but I could take a drive after work just to the beach like usual, look at it then turn around before heading home to the rest of my complications. As I got to the ocean instead of turning around where I usually did I allowed myself to be mesmerized by the sight of the ocean on my left and the mansions to my right. I drove south without thinking about my future enjoying the freedom of the moment until I realized that I had driven past Boca and out of Palm Beach County. It would now take me forever to get all the way north to Jupiter on US 1 and almost just as long on I-95 in rush hour traffic.
Determined to prolong this unusual taste of freedom I decided to take the scenic route back up north. I drove until I got to a restaurant in Delray that I loved that had outdoor tables where I could enjoy great food and an ocean view. I got a great table and ordered my favorite items off the menu then called my fiancé. I told him that I had gone for a drive to clear my head but ended up going too far and wouldn’t be home until a lot later. He said he understood that I was under a lot of stress, apologized for all the wedding drama, told me to take my time and said that it was okay with him if I stopped to eat because he couldn’t wait that long for dinner. I loved how he always remembered to give me permission to do the obvious things I needed to do for myself.
I shrugged off the thoughts of what I was allowing myself to be trapped in because tonight I was free. I was going to enjoy a nice meal and that ocean view. Tonight was for me. I ate and people watched and wrote poetry on napkins at my table. I felt so free until I felt like someone was watching me. I noticed that at a table close by there was a man staring directly at my feet and drawing in his sketchbook. I wondered if he was just looking off into space or making a sketch of my feet.
He kept looking. Drawing quickly in a maddening manner. Everything about him screamed feral although he was kempt from his perfectly faded short hair to his brand new kicks. He was definitely fierce though smiling boldly then bursting into laughter when he realized I had caught him. A strange man in a restaurant objectifying my feet should have pissed the feminist in me off but something about his audacity made me feel just fine. I couldn’t help but burst out in laughter too.
“Sorry. You have beautiful feet so I was making art of them. I’d show you but…”
He didn’t say anything else took a sip from his water, left a tip on the table and packed up all his stuff. He smiled at me then started to walk out of my life that’s when I felt a sharp pain run through me. This was it. This was my last chance at something wild! I dropped a couple of twenty dollar bills on the table and rushed after the feral artist that liked my feet. He was at the light about to cross the street when a voice from inside of me called after him.
“Hey feet artist!”
He stopped turned around. I approached him.
“I want to see.”
“You really don’t. You should really keep it simple and just let it go.”
“That’s exactly what I’m doing tonight letting go but you’re wrong I really do want to see.”
He reluctantly reached into his backpack, pulled out his sketchbook, flipped through it then with the most wicked smile on his face handed it to me. He had drawn my feet. My feet caressing a large thick penis that looked to have just finished; juices all around the tip flowing down the shaft. A complex fully developed foot fetish was not what I had expected but it fit his untamed demeanor. I smiled and handed him his sketchbook back.
“Interesting. Not my thing but interesting.”
“I’m sure. You look like you like keeping things simple. You probably don’t have a thing?! Do you?”
“No, I have a thing that I really enjoy but you’re right I do like keeping things simple.”
I didn’t want to walk away but I didn’t know what to say next even if he responded so I started to walk towards my car. He followed me. As I reached my car I remembered that I had a fiancé waiting for me at home where things were complicated. A fiancé that after five years of dating still didn’t get my thing. I paused pretending like I was going to actually get into my car, hoping that this unbroken man that didn’t seem like one much for words would say something to me.
“Ms. Thing, you know that’s not all I draw. If you’re ever down this way again I’d love for you to stop by and check my work out. I live right across the street.”
He pointed to the upscale townhouses on the other corner across from the ocean. I took a deep breath and I let go.
“How about now?”
He smiled and said, “You probably shouldn’t leave your car parked there. It’s safer at my place.”
I threw him my keys and got in the passengers seat. Tonight I wasn’t going to be in control. Tonight was going to be about simply letting go.
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