My pinkie toes are kind of special.
For starters, they don’t really look like toes — they look like fleshy tadpoles. As if their looks weren’t enough, instead of helping me walk like toes are supposed to, they just get in the way, half-wedging themselves between the ground and my ring toes. They’re useless and ugly, and for a long time, I was certain that my hideous toes had destined me for solitude. Until I met my boyfriend, I’d never actually encountered anything that matched their level of unsightliness.
My boyfriend is a lot of things. He’s soft and kind and sweet. He’s confident, but never too proud to ask for help. He’s always, always there. He’s also pretty hot. But the day I fell in love with him wasn’t the first time I unzipped his pants. It was another kind of disrobing altogether. It was the day I took off his socks to find that his pinkie toes look exactly like mine.
Emilie Kneifel is a second-year COGS student who lives in an apartment with her best friend named Kate, eats lots of fruits, makes lots of lists, and gets too excited about new connections on LinkedIn.
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