Swipe Right for Foot Wipe Pt. 01

"Well, that's a bit boring, Poppy. I was hoping we were going to have a lot to chat about. You seem preoccupied. Shall we reschedule?"

I felt bad for blowing Helen off, but I was actually relieved to make it back home. I'd come up with a plan on the train back. I was going to make a fake Tinder profile on my own phone and get to the bottom of all of this. I just had to know what was going on with Arpita. The curiosity was driving me insane. She'd become a sort of secret mission to me and I was enjoying the spy games.

As soon as I was through the front door, I'd downloaded Tinder and set up the profile. I found some random photo on the internet of a good-looking guy, not modelish, but believably attractive. It may have been a racist-assumption on my part, but I found a guy of Indian ethnicity. For all I knew, he was the complete opposite of Arpita's tastes as she hadn't offered an insight into the kind of guy she liked physically. I just needed her to match with him and give me the opportunity to ask that question that was tormenting me so much: why do you like rubbing your feet in peoples' faces? I figured a good-looking Indian guy gave me the best option. He was probably a famous actor for all I knew, but he's what I was going with.

Once the profile and photo were set up, I added in all the details that would give him a lot in common with her. He too liked to go to the cinema, was a foodie and medical professional. I was hoping he'd pop up on her screen and she'd instantly hit like as she drooled over her dream guy.

I began swiping through the profiles as they popped up one at a time. All types of girls were being thrown at my creation, Raj, the ultimate Indian bachelor. I was swiping left on all of them, giving them a firm no, waiting in anticipation for Arpita's profile to pop up. "Come on, Raj," I said to my phone with a smile. "We can do this!"

What began as excited enthusiasm, gradually became prolonged boredom as I swiped left to the point of my thumb cramping. I didn't even realise there were this many desperate girls signed up to the app. All sorts were popping up. Baristas, makeup artists, students, journalists and I swear one girl was even wearing a prison jumpsuit in her photo. I guess they even used Tinder in jail; who would have thought it? I must have been swiping for a good half hour before Arpita's face appeared on my screen and my body began to shake in excitement. I almost accidentally swiped left on her out of habit, but thankfully I paused just as my thumb hit the screen.

I scrolled down her profile to check that the message was still there. There it was, right at the bottom, still shamelessly displayed for all the world to see. I was about to swipe right when I paused; I read the instruction again.

Swipe right for foot wipe.

Even though I was using a fake profile, I was about to follow the instruction and swipe right. I was swiping right to be Arpita's foot wipe. That's basically what it all came down to, right? Regardless of whether she knew it was me behind the profile; I knew it was me. I could close the app right there and forget all about it. But I needed to know what was behind those words. It was eating me up inside and I couldn't resist any longer. It had become the most exciting activity in my life. I swiped right and closed the phone. It was done, and there was no going back now.

Suddenly, I was overcome with a sense of relaxation. It was out of my hands now and over to Arpita. Hopefully, she would swipe right on Raj too, and then I'd have the opportunity to ask that question and have my answer. I reasoned once I knew the meaning behind that absurd message I could move on and forget about it. I mean, I didn't actually want Arpita to rub her feet in my face or anything, did I? I didn't actually want to be this Indian girl's sweaty foot wipe. That was just ridiculous. This was all about having a snoop and satisfying my curiosity. So, my phishing was entirely justified and with merit. Yet, I couldn't help looking at the phone, constantly, waiting for Arpita to respond.

I spent the afternoon opening and closing the phone repeatedly. I wasted hours, just sat there, staring at the phone and refreshing constantly, waiting for that notification to pop up saying I'd matched with Arpita. She had to swipe right on Raj, she just had to. I was convinced she wouldn't be able to resist such a guy. But, nothing came. I knew she was in her apartment too, as through the walls I could hear her moving about. So, it wasn't as if she was busy at work or anything. She was quite likely sat around doing nothing, just like me. So, why the hell wasn't she on Tinder?

I wondered how she looked right at that moment. Was she sat on the couch, relaxing with her feet up? Was she playing on her phone, just as I was, her feet in the background crossed at the ankles on the arm of the couch? Were her toes still painted orange, like in the photo, or was there a different colour? Or maybe she was wearing socks and shoes? Perhaps she liked to keep her feet always covered up, sweating, ready, just in case someone swiped right on her Tinder and offered up their face as her foot wipe. Raj's face was ready and waiting, why the hell hadn't she swiped right too? I was expecting her to be eager to wipe her sweaty feet all over his face.

The sound of keys unlocking the door startled me from my mental wandering. I smiled from the couch as Stephen came into the apartment, tired from a long day at work.

"Hey, babe," I said, all merrily. I knew I should get up and give him a kiss, but my fingers fidgeted, itching to unlock my phone and refresh one more time. Just in case Arpita had matched with my fake profile.

"You been up to much today?" he asked, whilst hanging his coat on the hook.

"Nothing much. I met up with Helen for a coffee and gossip," I said. I also spent hours longing for our next-door neighbour, Arpita, to put me out of my misery, but I wasn't about to tell the man I loved that embarrassing truth.

"Sounds like an easy day."

If only he knew it was anything but easy. "Yep, nice and relaxing."

"Well, I'm shattered, so I'm going to take a shower then grab a nap before supper, that sound okay?"

"Sounds like you've earned it," I said. I felt terrible that I was actually pleased he was going to leave me alone a bit longer. I took the opportunity to crack open a bottle of wine, to settle my nerves as I waited for Arpita to take my bait.

One glass turned into a few. Eventually my phone buzzed, and I felt a hot wave flush over me. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath before unlocking the phone; this had to be it. "Please, Arpita," I whispered to myself. "Please have matched with me." Wait, was it me I wanted her to match with, or Raj? I meant Raj, of course, not myself.

I opened my eyes, and there it was on the screen:

Congratulations! You've matched with Arpita Jain!

"Oh my God, yes," I almost screamed out loud, before cringing and worrying that I may have woken Stephen with my euphoria. I couldn't help it though, I was too excited that Arpita had taken the bait and I was one step closer to solving this foot-wiping mystery.

I opened the app and began typing out a message. I thought about starting with a polite greeting, getting to know her and then dropping the bombshell of a question. But then I thought, why the hell bother? She didn't know it was me. She thought it was this random guy, Raj, so I may as well be blunt and get straight to it.

Raj: Hi, so, I was just wondering, what's with that message on ur profile?

The question had been asked, and soon I was to get my answer, or so I thought. However, I waited, and I waited, and I waited, and nothing came. Arpita hadn't even read the message. What in the hell was she even doing in her apartment? She'd just matched with this incredible guy, like basically the perfect guy for her, why wasn't she jumping at the chance to message him? She was killing me with the suspense! I needed to know why she'd write that weird message on her profile, god damnit. Why the hell did she like rubbing her sweaty feet in peoples' faces? Just tell me. I needed to know! This had become the most exciting thing in my dull, routine life and I needed a blasted resolution.

I cracked open another bottle of wine and poured myself a glass of red. I gulped down half while I clutched the phone tightly, my eyes wide focused on the screen and willing for some kind of response. Refresh. Refresh. Come on, Arpita. Yes, finally, a little tick, she'd read the message! Here we go. I was so close to finding out what that weird message was all about.

I'd already finished the first glass of wine, so I poured myself another. I took a sip while I waited for Arpita to reply, then another, then another. This woman was a total nightmare for my anxiety. Just freaking reply to the message, for God's sake! I knew she'd read it, she must have known that I knew that too, but she hadn't replied.

I thought about sending another message, but I didn't know what to write. Was that the problem? Had I blown it? Was there some kind of etiquette I was supposed to follow? Maybe Arpita was really picky about the kind of faces she rubbed her feet on and I'd opened with the wrong message. She'd obviously rubbed her feet in lots of faces, since she was so open about liking it. Maybe being Arpita's foot wipe was something that had to be earned? Why the hell wasn't I good enough to be Arpita's foot wipe? I mean, Raj! Why wasn't Raj good enough?

I went to pour another glass of wine and noticed that I'd drank the whole bottle already. I took a glimpse into the bedroom and saw that Stephen was completely passed out, oblivious to my stewing in the other room. I cracked open another bottle and settled into the couch, slurping on a fresh glass.

Fuck it, I thought. I was feeling emboldened by the alcohol tingling my body all over and I decided to confront Arpita. I'd go and knock her door and just ask her what her profile was all about and did she realise that everyone in the entire city could see it? I could even phrase it in a way that I came across as concerned for her well-being. That I was worried her reputation was going to suffer from sharing such a peculiar interest. I didn't even have to lie about how I discovered her profile, I had found it on Stephen's Tinder after all.

Before I could change my mind, I'd left the apartment and knocked on Arpita's door. It was only when I was stood there, waiting for her to answer, that doubts began to enter my head. What the hell was I doing? Approaching the neighbour to ask why she liked rubbing her feet in peoples' faces? How proud my parents would be if they knew this was the kind of stuff keeping me busy at night. I was about to sneak back to my apartment when Arpita opened the door.

"Hey, neighbour," she said with a smile. She was wearing a silk bathrobe, with each of her smooth, brown legs leading down to a fluffy slipper. Her black hair rested delicately on her shoulders and her dark eyes appeared soft and welcoming. "What's up?"

"Ummm, I have something I need to ask you."

Arpita adjusted her standing position and leant against the doorframe. "Sure, what is it?"

I thought about trying to explain everything that had happened. I stared at Arpita intently as I ran the words through my head. It was a simple process, after all, there was nothing complicated about it. I had accidentally come across her profile and was curious why she would share something so openly. The buzz of wine was flowing through my veins too, so with my drunken confidence, I just flat out asked the question, "Please would you rub your feet in my face?"

Wait, what the hell, that wasn't the question I was supposed to ask. I wanted to ask her why she liked rubbing her feet in peoples' faces? That's why I'd come over and knocked her door, wasn't it? But those weren't the words that had left my mouth. I attempted to recover and ask the correct question, but instead I let out an anguished slur, "Ugh."

Arpita cocked her head to the side and furrowed her brow. Her eyes looked off to the hallway as if she was contemplating something. Seconds later, she looked straight at me and raised an eyebrow. "Huh?"

My mind was still panicking and desperately searching for some kind of explanation. Why the hell had I asked that? Was that what I really wanted? Ever since I'd read her Tinder profile, I'd been obsessing about Arpita rubbing her feet in peoples' faces and why she would do such a thing. The question was tormenting me and even keeping me awake at night.

It was only at that moment I realised the magnitude of what I was actually asking for. I'd just pleaded with the Indian nurse next door to rub her sweaty feet in my face. What the hell had I become? Was this what I was wanting all along? Maybe I hadn't been curious about why she did it; I'd been curious about how it would feel, on my face. I knew I'd had a couple of bottles of wine by that point, but still, I was better than that. I was in a relationship with a great guy, about to get married, and there I was, stood at the neighbour's front door and asking her to rub her feet in my face. Did I really want to know what it felt like, to be laying beneath Arpita's sweaty feet as she rubbed them in my face?

I felt butterflies in my tummy as I accepted that I wanted to join that club of Arpita's foot wipes, from the very moment I'd first read it on her profile and been shocked by the absurdity of the act. It had been a staggered descent which had led me right to her doorstep. The thought had sent a lightning bolt through my body, I'd thought because the idea sickened me, but perhaps it had been exhilaration. It all made sense now. That comment on her profile was bait, put there to lure in her next catch, and I was hooked on the end of her line. My path to her door had been inevitable ever since. I was going to be Arpita's next foot wipe, and there was no stopping it.

Still, hearing the words out loud in my own voice mortified me. I couldn't look her in the eye as I'd requested something so ridiculous, and instead glanced down at her fluffy slippers. The material flexed as those brown toes wiggled beneath. I peered to see if I could make out what colour polish she was wearing, of if her toe rings would sparkle as her nose stud did. Unfortunately, her feet were completely hidden from my lingering eyes beneath the old, tattered slippers. I sniffed at the air and wondered if they'd built up a stink as they looked well-used.

"Could you say that again?" She folded her arms across her chest, took a step forward and dipped her ear towards me. "I think I misheard you."

Oh God, she must have been enjoying this so much. She was actually going to make me ask again. I gulped, closed my eyes, and said the words once more. "Please would you rub your feet in my face?" I mean, in my drunken logic I'd already said them once, so why not again? It didn't even enter my head that maybe she was being honest and actually hadn't heard me correctly, in which case I'd have been off the hook. No, I had to go and repeat myself, even louder than the first time. But the drunken thoughts swirled around my head, and I wondered if this was some sort of test. Perhaps I'd just said the wrong thing. I hadn't passed the secret code to earn the chance to be under her feet and become her foot wipe. I tried again, "Can I be your sweaty foot wipe?"

Arpita cocked her head once more and looked at me curiously. Her eyes were wide with confusion. "You want to me to do, to be, I'm not sure I understand, what?" She glanced down at her slippers and lifted her one foot up onto its toes, allowing a glimpse of her heel to peek out. "Something about my feet?"

Her sole was pale in comparison to her brown skin tone and the contrast mesmerised me. "Yes, your feet, would you, ummm, rub them in my face?" I was starting to feel vulnerable and exposed. This wasn't how it was supposed to go, was it? I hadn't come here with the intention of asking to be her foot wipe, but that's what had happened, almost as if I was powerless to stop it. But surely Arpita was used to this? She must have done it so many times before. I mean, from her profile, she was very experienced in this. She enjoyed it after all, she must be used to people swiping right on her profile for the opportunity to be her foot wipe. I couldn't understand why she was acting so confused. I had come to her and bravely offered my face up, and she was leaving me to squirm.

"You want me to rub my feet in your face?" She asked in that delectable Indian accent. Her voice was without emotion, and she pronounced each word with precision and intention, leaving the absurdity to hang in the air. Her eyes remained wide, locked open with bemusement.

Hearing Arpita say the words out loud was enough to make me shrink in shame. I stuttered, trying to conjure some kind of coherent response, something to explain away my foolishness. I figured she was used to people asking through the app, but never in person and straight to her face. Perhaps I had caught her off guard.

Suddenly, Arpita took a step out into the hallway. She raised up on her tip-toes to look over my shoulder. "Is this a joke or something? Where is your man?"

"He's asleep." I had to lean a hand against the wall to avoid tumbling over in my drunken stupor. "But, no, it's not a joke. Would you do it?"

"But why?" She looked me straight in the eyes. Her nose stud gleamed in the light of the hallway. "Why would you want me to do that?" She looked at the watch on her wrist. "It's so late, and you knock my door for this? This is very odd. We barely know each other and now you're asking me to..." Her voice trailed off as she shook her head in disbelief.

I figured out what she was doing. This was all part of the arrangement. She wanted to enjoy me saying how much I wanted it to happen. That's why she didn't finish the sentence and let it hang in the air. Hell, she would probably enjoy me down on my knees begging for it even more. This was some kind of power play. That must have been the kick she got out of the whole thing. "I saw your Tinder profile. I swiped right, like you said." The confidence in my voice seemed to dissipate with every further look of confusion from her. The next words left my mouth in a squeak, "I swiped right to be your foot wipe, ma'am." I don't even know why I called her ma'am. It just seemed somewhat appropriate considering what I was asking.

"Tinder?" Her eyes narrowed, before widening in recognition. "Oh yes, my sister set it up for me before I moved here. She said it would be good to meet people, but I don't really know how to use it. The notifications are so annoying. I'm still not understanding this though. What's Tinder got to do with my feet?"

The blood drained from my face. I must have looked like a pale vampire compared to the cool, brown goddess before me. Oh my God. It was a joke. It was a freakin' joke that her sister had written on her profile when she set it up. I'd been fantasising and obsessing over something that wasn't even real. I became abundantly aware of the situation I'd put myself in and I immediately sobered up. "I should be going," I said. "This was a mistake. I'm sorry I bothered you." I could feel my cheeks pulsating with embarrassment. My head became lightheaded, on the verge of passing out from an overdose of anxiety. I turned and stumbled back to my apartment.

"Wait," I heard Arpita call out as I was closing the door, "I didn't say no."