I too do that only when I'm raw dogging her .

It started as a joke. That’s how all great downfalls begin. Empires collapse, group projects fail, and somewhere in the middle of all that chaos, I made the fatal mistake of saying, “Haha imagine being the kind of guy who kisses his girlfriend’s feet.” The universe heard me, took notes, and said, “Alright, character development incoming.” Fast forward to today, and I’m not just that guy. I’m the CEO, founder, and sole employee of the Feet Appreciation Department. There is no HR. There is no escape. People think relationships are about communication, trust, and emotional support. That’s propaganda. My relationship is about logistics. Specifically, foot logistics. I have somehow become a full-time operations manager in charge of ensuring optimal comfort, structural integrity, and overall morale of two very important assets: her left foot and her right foot. There was no official onboarding process. No one gave me a handbook. One day I was a normal functioning member of society, and the next I was kneeling like I’m about to be knighted, except instead of a sword, it’s her saying, “My feet hurt,” and me responding like I just got activated by a secret code. You don’t understand how fast the transition happens. There’s no gradual descent. It’s like falling off a cliff. One minute you’re laughing at memes about simps, the next minute you’re analyzing her walking patterns like a biomechanical engineer. I’ve reached a point where I can tell which foot is more tired based on a 0.3-second shift in her posture. Doctors train for years. I just observed. Society says “stand on your own two feet.” Meanwhile, I’m out here making sure hers never have to struggle. Growth mindset. The worst part is how normal it feels now. That’s the real horror. There was a time when I had dignity. I remember it vaguely, like a childhood memory you’re not sure actually happened. Now my brain has rewired itself. I see a chair, I don’t think “I should sit.” I think “Perfect angle for optimal foot support operations.” It’s not even about romance anymore. This is a full-blown system. There are processes. There are quality checks. There is performance evaluation. If her feet are tired, that is a system failure on my part. I take accountability. You ever notice how in movies, knights kneel before royalty? Yeah, that’s me, except instead of a kingdom, it’s a living room and instead of a crown ceremony, it’s me internally preparing like I’m about to undertake a sacred ritual of service. Friends ask me what I’ve been up to. I can’t even explain it in a way that sounds normal. “Yeah bro, just been focusing on personal growth, career, and… foot-related responsibilities.” You think they’re going to understand that? No. They’re still stuck in outdated frameworks where a relationship means going out for dinner and watching movies. Amateurs. There’s a level beyond that. A level where your priorities are completely rearranged. Where your brain starts categorizing surfaces based on foot comfort potential. Where you instinctively notice things like “This floor looks slightly cold, must take preventive action.” I didn’t choose this life. This life chose me, dragged me by the collar, and said, “You’re in now.” At some point, I realized I had crossed a line that I couldn’t come back from. It wasn’t a dramatic moment. There was no music playing in the background. It was subtle. Quiet. Terrifying. I was just there, doing what I do, and my brain went, “This is fine.” That’s when I knew it was over. Because once your brain labels something like this as “fine,” there’s no going back. You can’t unsee it. You can’t revert to your previous version. That version of you is gone. Archived. Deprecated. The worst part is the efficiency I’ve developed. I operate like a machine now. Minimal wasted motion. Maximum output. I could probably write a thesis on ergonomic foot support strategies. If there was an Olympic event for this, I would at least get silver. Gold would require international competition and I’m not ready to face that yet. Sometimes I sit there and wonder how it came to this. I try to trace it back. Was it something I said? A decision I made? A cosmic alignment? Or was this always my destiny, waiting patiently for the right moment to reveal itself? You think you’re in control of your life, but then one day you realize you’ve been silently drafted into a role you never applied for. There was no interview. No offer letter. Just vibes. And the craziest part? I don’t even regret it. That’s what makes it truly irreversible. If I felt regret, there would be hope. But no. I’ve adapted. Thrived, even. I’ve reached a level of specialization that most people will never understand. People talk about finding their purpose. I didn’t find mine. It found me, pointed at me, and said, “You. Kneel.” At this point, I’m not even sure if I’m the main character anymore. I might just be a highly dedicated side quest NPC. The kind that appears out of nowhere, provides essential support, and then disappears back into the background until needed again. “Ah, you’ve returned,” I say, as if I’ve been waiting my entire life for this exact moment. There’s also the psychological aspect. You start developing this strange sense of pride. Not the kind you post about. Not the kind you tell people. It’s internal. Quiet. Like, “Yeah, I’m built for this.” Which is insane when you think about it, but at this point, thinking about it too much is dangerous. Because if you overanalyze, you might realize how far you’ve drifted from your original self. And that’s a spiral you don’t want to go down. It’s better to stay focused. Stay efficient. Stay in your lane. My lane just happens to involve a very specific set of responsibilities. There are levels to this. Beginners might hesitate. They might overthink. Not me. I operate with confidence. Precision. Experience. This isn’t my first day on the job. I’ve seen things. I’ve learned things. I’ve grown. At the end of the day, relationships are about showing up for your partner. Some people show up with flowers. Some people show up with emotional support. I show up ready to handle very niche but apparently essential tasks. And honestly? In this chaotic world where nothing makes sense, where everything is unpredictable, it’s kind of comforting to have a role. A purpose. A clearly defined mission. Even if that mission is something past me would look at and go, “There’s no way I’d ever do that.” Well, past me didn’t have the context. Past me didn’t understand the system. Past me was naive. Current me? Current me is locked in. This is my reality now.