MidReal Story
Whims of the Heart
Scenario: Evi falls in love with her childhood friend who loves playing with and smelling feet
Create my version of this story
The bond Alex and I have runs so deep, we practically share the same DNA.
We’ve been inseparable since we were kids.
We spent hours on end playing make-believe and building forts in my backyard.
When he’d come over, he’d always ask me to play a game with him, and I’d say yes, no matter what it was.
We’d go into the woods behind my house, and he’d tell me he was a princess who had been kidnapped by the evil dragon, and I’d have to save him.
I’d always tell him he could be the prince if he wanted to be, but he’d just shake his head and say, “Nope.
I’m the princess and you’re the knight.”
I thought it was funny that he wanted to be the princess.
Looking back, I realize it was just a sign that he wasn’t afraid to be himself around me.
He didn’t care what I thought of him.
And I never judged him for it.
I’ve always accepted him for who he is, just like he’s always accepted me.
Sometimes we’d go back to my place and watch cartoons.
My mom would make us our favorite snacks—grilled cheese sandwiches with tomato soup or macaroni and cheese—and we’d eat them while we talked about all the things we wanted to be when we grew up.
In elementary school, Alex told me he wanted to be an astronaut.
I told him that sounded cool, but I couldn’t do that because I was afraid of heights.
He said I could still do it, even if I never left the Earth.
He said I could be in charge of space missions from mission control, and that would make me an astronaut, too.
He said there were all sorts of ways to travel through space, and it didn’t matter how you did it as long as you loved space with your whole heart.
And that’s how I knew he loved me with his whole heart, because he always made me feel like I could be anything I wanted to be.
In middle school, Alex told me he was going to ask out the prettiest girl in our class.
I told him that was a bad idea, because she was way out of his league.
He said it didn’t matter, because he was going to be famous one day, and then all the pretty girls would want him.
I told him that was the dumbest thing I’d ever heard, and I stormed off.
But when I got home, he called me and told me he’d changed his mind.
He decided he didn’t want to date her after all, because she was too stuck up.
I told him that was a good decision, because she was a total bitch.
And that’s how I knew he loved me, because he was willing to give up on his dream girl for me, even though I’d been a total jerk.
In high school, Alex told me he was in love with my feet.
I told him that was disgusting.
But then he explained that it wasn’t really my feet he was in love with—it was the idea of my feet.
He said they were beautiful and perfect, like everything else about me.
But it wasn’t just about how they looked—it was about how they made him feel.
He said when he was with me, he could be himself without worrying about what anyone thought of him.
That’s when I realized I loved him, too.
For the longest time, I couldn’t figure out why Alex never had a girlfriend.
It wasn’t like he was unattractive or anything.
On the contrary—he was tall with dark hair and a killer smile.
He had these gorgeous green eyes that sparkled when he laughed, which was often.
And even though he was a little awkward and quirky at times, he had one of the best personalities of anyone I’d ever met.
He was kind and thoughtful and hilarious (albeit in an offbeat way).
In short, he was pretty much perfect.
So it didn’t make any sense that no one would want him—especially after we moved on from high school and started college together.
It wasn’t like he didn’t have his pick of girls who were interested in him; in fact, there were plenty who would have given anything to be with him.
But no one ever seemed quite good enough for him—and none of them seemed quite right for him, either.
I started to wonder if maybe he was gay or something.
Not that I had a problem with that, of course.
I’d known plenty of gay guys over the years, and I didn’t have any issues with their lifestyle.
I was just curious to know if that’s what was holding him back from being with anyone.
But Alex never gave me any indication that that was the case.
He never talked about being attracted to guys—he never talked about being attracted to anyone, for that matter.
And as far as I could tell, he never showed any interest in dating anyone, either.
Which only made me wonder even more why someone as great as him would be content to spend the rest of his life alone.
Or at least without a girlfriend.
It was around this time that I realized my feelings for him were starting to change.
We’d always had a close and special relationship—one that was more intimate than I had with any of my other friends.
But suddenly I found myself feeling things for him I never had before.
I was excited to see him and spend time with him.
I wanted to talk to him and be around him all the time.
And when we were together, I couldn’t help but notice how attractive he was to me—and how much I wanted him to notice me in the same way.
One night we were watching a movie in my dorm room.
I can’t remember what it was, but it wasn’t very good—I think I spent most of the time looking at my phone instead of paying attention to it.
But then I felt Alex’s hand on my thigh, and all of a sudden I couldn’t think about anything else.
I looked over at him and saw that he was staring at the screen, completely oblivious to what he was doing—completely unaware of how he was making me feel.
I tried to focus on the movie, but I couldn’t get his touch out of my mind.
It felt so nice against my skin—so warm and comforting and inviting.
And then something strange happened.
His scent, which I’d always thought of as just…him—like it was a part of who he was—suddenly hit me like a ton of bricks.
i asked him if he wanted to smell my smelly feet and he loved it
It was so intoxicating and overwhelming that I felt this sudden need to be as close to him as I possibly could—to get lost in his smell and his touch and everything that made him who he was.
I wanted to be wrapped up in his arms—to be pressed against his chest—to feel his breath on my skin.
I wanted him to kiss me more than anything else in the world.
But I didn’t want it to be just any kiss—I didn’t want it to be a friendly kiss or a playful kiss or even a passionate kiss—I wanted it to be an everything kiss—a kiss that meant everything and said everything and changed everything between us forever.
But then he must have realized what he was doing and quickly pulled his hand away from me—quickly breaking the spell he had over me—as if he knew exactly what he was doing to me and didn’t want me to know what it was doing to him.
We spent most of the rest of the night talking about random stuff to keep from having an awkward moment between us—to keep things from getting weird between us—to make sure that nothing changed between us.
And thankfully, nothing did change between us—we were still best friends when I woke up the next morning—and we were still best friends when I went to bed the next night.
And as far as I could tell, nothing was different between us at all—even if it felt like something had changed for me—like something should have been different for me—even if I couldn’t exactly put my finger on what that something was or why it should have been different in the first place.
After we graduated from college, we moved back to our hometown and got an apartment together—our very first place and our very first time living on our own.
And we spent most of our nights watching movies and eating junk food and debating all of the important issues of the day—like whether or not we should watch a horror movie even though we both knew it would keep me up all night and give me nightmares for weeks on end—or whether or not we should watch a comedy instead even though we’d seen all of the good ones before and I thought most of the new ones were pretty stupid and not worth watching at all.
