This is the story I said I would never write. I don’t put anyone with whom I’ve had a relationship that lasts longer than a couple of dates in my blog.

I’m making an exception. Take it as a warning.

It started with boots. “You look nice. Those are nice boots.” Well, yes, as a matter of fact, I love when the weather gets just cool enough, usually in October, when it starts to chill and I can wear boots. Boots, a sweater and a scarf – that’s my uniform until Spring.

“Do you have a lot of boots? he asked.

“Why yes, I said, I actually have an entire closet devoted to boots,” I responded.

“Wow, you must really like boots.”

“Yes,” I said, digging into my much awaited tiramisu. So tell me more about the conference you’re going to,” I asked.

“How many boots do you have? Ten pairs? Fifteen? Are they tall boots?”

So imagine my delight when I received a beautiful pair of leather boots from Italy. They looked expensive. They were so comfortable. The heels were a little higher than I usually wear, but it was so nice of him to think of me while he was traveling overseas for his conference.

A couple more delightful gift boxes that contain boots and a few weeks later, it got… weird.

Well, I’ve never worn boots to bed. It seemed a little odd. But hey, it could be sexy. Who am I to judge? The red flag didn’t hit me in the face, until one morning, after a beautiful night with my new boyfriend, he whispered in my ear after bringing me coffee just the way I like it (2 sugars, lots of almond milk, not too hot.) “Last night, while you were sleeping, I licked your boots,” he said with a salacious grin on his face.

I’m not sure how to spell that sound when someone suddenly stops a phonograph needle from making contact with a vinyl record album, but insert that sound here.

So how did I feel about vinyl boots? And did I know they made vinyl underwear? So I did what any inquisitive woman would do. I called my cousin.

“Hey Jenn, the professor (that’s what I’ll call him) did something kind of odd last night. What do you think this is about? I asked her. I expected to hear a giggle or quizzical expression.

“It’s not the big ask,” she said flatly. Smart woman, that cousin.

I’m not sure of the details surrounding how things really evolved over the next couple of weeks. I was mostly in shock. And this was kind of entertaining. Kind of.

Then, instead of a pair of boots, the professor gave me a tiny box. Oh no — it’s too soon for this! I thought. Inside the tiny box was — a tiny key. Really tiny. He wants me to read his diary, was my first thought. It’s too small for a

for a bank security box. Aww, could it be the symbolic key to his heart?

No.

(If you are not 18 or open-minded, you might want to stop reading here and continuing thinking this is a story about boots.)

In the next few days, I learned about “chastity.” To be more specific, male chastity. “It’s nothing weird,” he assured me. “I’m very masculine, I just think of it as a way to profess my love and pledge to stay monogamous. You should be flattered.”

Flattered. Well, not so much. I learned there were male chastity products all over (the dark recesses) of the internet. Rubber ones, plastic ones, metal ones, ones that involved piercing (ewwww). The one he chose was a rather bulky stainless steel contraption that had the head of a snake on the end. It was custom made to his exact measuremetns. This was going to stay on his… he was going to wear this until the next time we saw each other and I could unlock it with the little key. Okkkkkaaaayyyy.

The next gift was another little box. This one contained a long sterling chain. So I could put the key on it and wear it around my neck. At all times.

“Well, Jenn, you were right. It wasn’t the big ask.”

“Neither is this,” she replied.

Oh yes. Yes. It. Was.

He broke it off suddenly a couple of weeks later. I wasn’t understanding the sacrifice he was making for me. I didn’t fully appreciate the symbolism of his adoration and commitment.

And that’s how it happened. I had no idea I was going to venture into fifty shades of weird when this all started. It was just a nice pair of boots from a sweet, intelligent man.

The sun is out today and the ducks have returned to the pond in my backyard. I can’t wait to start wearing my sandals.