I must have a stamp across my forehead that says “Talk to me if you’re weird.” Or I’d like to think that my sparkling creative personality is bursting at the seams and my glowing aura can be seen from miles away. Either way, random people (i.e. strangers) like to chat me up on the street.

So, I wasn’t too surprised when a seemingly normal boy complimented me on my black leather knee-high boots while I was waiting to catch the #49 bus. He stood a comfortable arm’s length distance away while he initiated the conversation: “Nice shoes.” I silently waited for the cliché of “Lets f___” to follow. Except it never did, but he did ask me if I’d like a sticker…of a boot. “Sure!” I replied enthusiastically. Why? Because I love stickers. They remind me of the good part of a doctor’s visit…when the nurse hands you a happy face sticker because you survived the nasty needle portion without passing out.

While I was vibing off the warm fuzzy feeling of stickers, the boy continued to ask, “Can I kiss your boots?” I was in broad daylight and a handful of other people were waiting at the bus stop with me, including two of my friends. I felt relatively safe, so I shrugged my shoulders and replied “Uhm….okay.” Kneeling down the boy french kissed my left boot on the toe. When he stood up again, I could see the saliva he left on the leather. I had no words.

My girlfriend that watched the exchange asked me if I felt dirty afterward. Looking at my spit polished leather boot, I said, “Nope. There was a safe layer of leather in between us. Didn’t feel a thing.”