“You’re a lunatic, and you’re drunk. And if I was a guy that had a thing for feet, you just wearing my socks would be doing it for me and I’d never wash them again.” I grimaced. “You’re not doing a great job convincing me you aren’t that guy.” “But you still didn’t take the socks off,” he replied with a wink. “I would sooner rip my own cuticles than put my feet on a dick.” “It feels necessary that I point out no one is asking you to do either of those things.”
