TheFurFiles - Bombarded With Bad Luck, Vexatious Vibrations, Opposed To Premarital Promiscuity
Madame Floretta “Fern” De Villiers, a.k.a. “Amanda Fox” is an author of erotic fiction and commentary. This is her weekly advice column.
Friday, February 18th, 2011.
A while back, I met this girl. I thought she was super cute so I asked her out. Every time we tried to get together however, something happened, like we missed our first date because she accidentally got her foot run over by a lawn mower. And she wasn’t even cutting the grass – her neighbor was. She just happened to be standing close to his property line clipping some hedges.
Second time we tried, I came down with this really weird illness whereby I couldn’t move the bottom half of my body and my right eye kept drooping shut for an entire week.
When we finally did manage to hook up – while we were out having dinner –some woman at the table next to us decided to dump her boyfriend. A fight ensued during which he pulled out a gun and shot her in the arm. The cops came and cleared the restaurant, detaining a few of us witnesses for questioning. After being grilled for about an hour, Jackie (my date) said she wasn’t feeling very well so I told her I’d take her home. En route, she threw up in my car – right in the glove box – and as soon as I’d pulled into her driveway, she ran inside, not bothering to look back or even give a weak wave. That was two days ago.
Now even though we haven’t spent much time together, what I do know about Jackie, I really like. Plus, we’ve had some very meaningful phone conversations. Do you think I should ask her out again?
Bad Luck Chuck
I think Jackie gets it, but you (somehow) do not.
Anyway, I met this guy once who had a serious foot fetish. This quickly became apparent as on our first date he asked me to kindly take off my socks and place both feet in his lap so that he could massage them. Well, he did more than that. After rubbing them for a good hour, he proceeded to lick my soles and take each toe painstakingly into his mouth until I couldn’t stand it anymore and I told him to $%#@ing stop or else.
Now other than this moderately strange proclivity, even though I really liked the guy, every time we’d plan to get together after that initial meeting, I’d get a wart. And you know how well that wart removing stuff works – well, it doesn’t – so I’d have to put him off for a good five or six months, the time it took for me to scrape the crap out of my foot until the damn thing went away. Then I’d call him up again to try and reschedule. This went on for three years until finally it dawned on me: we just weren’t meant to be together. You see, there is difficult and then there’s just plain labyrinthine.Continued on the next page