Sometimes I think back to when we first met, just a few weeks in, maybe a month. We were sitting in my apartment taking, getting to know each other. I started to take my shoes off and out of nowhere you asked “Do you have ugly feet? You always keep your socks on in the house.” I was taken aback, you had zeroed in on a lifetime insecurity like a master archer on their target. I was hesitant to respond & you caught that too, “What’s wrong with your feet”, you asked. Mortified and not wanting to respond I said, “I just hate my second toe. My brother always made fun of me growing up so I’m insecure about it.” Not skipping a beat, and without consideration for my obvious discomfort, empathy for a childhood insecurity, or shame in your lack of boundaries, you said, “take your socks off, I need to see what I’m dealing with here.” I didn’t want to take my socks off. I didn’t want to be having that conversation. But I did and you laughed, saying my feet were totally normal. That you had seen some ugly feet but mine were fine and that my brother was an idiot…
I never forgot that night. How quickly you picked up on my insecurity. How unabashedly you called it out and the lack of regard for how uncomfortable it made me. I didn’t realize then how this ability of yours would present itself throughout our time together; how it would harm or how it would uplift. And to this day, I still don’t know if its something I appreciate or dislike about you but I do know I no longer feel the need to keep my socks on in the house..
