Today I unsubscribed from all foot party email list groups which I’d joined one year ago.
I’ve attended three of these parties, where I met two lovely women; well, perhaps not so lovely after all. In fact, once I learned that they only befriended me because I paid them, and not because they liked me, I quickly lost interest, in them and the whole business in general. I’m not so desperate that I must further humiliate myself like this. I’m better than that.
At first, I felt accepted, foot fetish and all, which heretofore has been quite the rare find in my love quest. But ultimately, I got rejected repeatedly at the foot parties, as the girls accepted my fetish only because they received good money to do so. But me as a person, they seemed to regard with little or no significance. That stung, and indeed sheds some light on why sexual intercourse forms of prostitution are illegal. It’s no fun to realize that all you ever really meant to someone was how much you could economically advance them.
Indeed, I am a worthy person; deserving of anyone I’d care to approach, without charge. I should not pay high fees for a woman’s interest, which is fake anyhow, because it’s not my money that should entitle me. It’s just because I am human that demands self respect as well as respect and acceptance from others. When people deny me complimentary acceptance, an acceptance which by the way is the birthright of any human being, then I shall, from now on, avoid them. Why? Not only is paying them to act like they like me debasing and painful. But in so doing, I’m devaluing myself; reducing myself to groveling with my open wallet in hand. The more money I pay, it’s clear, the less I’m valuing myself ironically.
For whatever reason, whether I’m lacking in some way, or they are, if any lady sees my money as my most valuable asset, then I’d rather get away from her, and find people who see more. Unfortunately, though I thought I had, it turned out that I actually found no one with this better vision at the foot parties. So after three trips to Philadelphia in May, June, and July of last year, the thought of attending again felt wrong, and all interest in making further visits disappeared. In fact, I’d be ashamed to go back there now; not because I deem myself unworthy of the models at those parties, but rather because I think I’m worthy of so much more than a couple hours of costly foot worship, with people who but for the money I paid them, did not see me. As I see it, to attend now would contradict my high self opinion, and defy my sense of dignity and decorum. So I’ll not do it again in the foreseeable future.
I’m looking for free love, which is the deepest, truest form of love; love from people who enjoy me for me, and not exclusively how much I can pay them. It hurts too much to obtain love in any compensatory way because it assaults my self esteem to continue begging and groveling for affection by flashing my bills. No matter how attractive the woman, she has no right to diminish men in this way, and I’ll never again permit this to be done to me. This man at least, believes that he deserves more, and he’ll either get more, or simply live without.
Thus, it’s back to the proverbial drawing board. Yet I have faith that I’ll get this right someday. It’s all part of the pursuit of love; a search for understanding and sustained affection and satisfaction, that I’ve been engaged in for so long now that I don’t know what I’d do with myself if I gave it up. So, the quest continues.