I was out at one of the local bars on Friday night with some of my friends when I started a conversation with a girl passing by. I first noticed her face, which had soft, feminine features, offset by dazzling green eyes and surrounded by immaculately layered locks of silky, conditioner commercial quality blonde hair. As my eyes strained to soak in her beauty they moved down past her neck to her chest, where they discovered a set of the largest, most elevated breasts they had ever seen. And they weren't just big, but tan and shapely, adorned with a thin layer of glitter that sparkled in the smoke and dive bar lighting. Despite my best intentions to shift the focus back to her face, I was powerless, and quickly became entranced. We stood in silence for a few moments before she proceeded to give me a lecture on the shallowness of the male species, of which I heard only parts. She proceeded to walk away, leaving me with a glazed look and a week's worth of memories.
In retrospect, I think that all men can relate to the above situation. While I admit that such unambiguous gawking might take things a little too far, I do maintain that her contempt was uncalled for. In my opinion, when a woman decides to wear a provocative outfit and highlight her assets so blatantly, she should not be subject to unwanted harassment or ridicule, however, a little staring is understandable and should be expected by any reasonable person. For example, if I'm getting ready for a night out and decide to wear a special kind of underwear that gives me extra padding and lift, and then adorn my groin area with diamonds in a heart shaped pattern before sprinkling on some glitter, I shouldn't be surprised or upset when everyone's attention is fixated in that region. It's only natural, and when you add this kind of primping to a guy's Gollem-like fixation with breasts, it becomes obvious why I was in such a helpless situation.
For women out there who still can't relate, let me put it another way: Breasts to men are a lot like shoes. Think about it, they come in pairs, its one of the first things you notice about another person, and no matter how many you have you always want more. Not to mention all the different varieties of colors, styles, and sizes. If I could buy breasts at the mall I'd never leave. The scene in my apartment would be straight out of MTV Cribs, only instead of a celebrity showing off of a massive walk-in closet stocked with hundreds of pairs of shoes, my walk-in would feature an abundance of boobs all meticulously arranged. I would point out my favorite pair, maybe acknowledge a set I got a really good deal on, and then shut the doors and move on to the garage where I keep my Hyundai Sonata.
So I think I'm going to go back to that bar this weekend and hopefully I'll run into the well endowed woman who previously caught my attention. I'd like to think that I'm going to look her in the eye and explain to her that her prior behavior was uncalled for, as her outfit amounted to an entrapment so alluring that no reasonable man could have resisted. She will then apologize profusely, analogize the showcasing of her boobs to me colorfully decorating my pubic area, and then offer to make amends by inviting me home for a private viewing.
Okay, more likely, I'm going to walk up to her, look her in the eye, and then stare at her breasts some more until she recites a similar sermon equating me and my unconscious drooling to that of a particularly unrefined caveman. Did I mention there was glitter?
In retrospect, I think that all men can relate to the above situation. While I admit that such unambiguous gawking might take things a little too far, I do maintain that her contempt was uncalled for. In my opinion, when a woman decides to wear a provocative outfit and highlight her assets so blatantly, she should not be subject to unwanted harassment or ridicule, however, a little staring is understandable and should be expected by any reasonable person. For example, if I'm getting ready for a night out and decide to wear a special kind of underwear that gives me extra padding and lift, and then adorn my groin area with diamonds in a heart shaped pattern before sprinkling on some glitter, I shouldn't be surprised or upset when everyone's attention is fixated in that region. It's only natural, and when you add this kind of primping to a guy's Gollem-like fixation with breasts, it becomes obvious why I was in such a helpless situation.
For women out there who still can't relate, let me put it another way: Breasts to men are a lot like shoes. Think about it, they come in pairs, its one of the first things you notice about another person, and no matter how many you have you always want more. Not to mention all the different varieties of colors, styles, and sizes. If I could buy breasts at the mall I'd never leave. The scene in my apartment would be straight out of MTV Cribs, only instead of a celebrity showing off of a massive walk-in closet stocked with hundreds of pairs of shoes, my walk-in would feature an abundance of boobs all meticulously arranged. I would point out my favorite pair, maybe acknowledge a set I got a really good deal on, and then shut the doors and move on to the garage where I keep my Hyundai Sonata.
So I think I'm going to go back to that bar this weekend and hopefully I'll run into the well endowed woman who previously caught my attention. I'd like to think that I'm going to look her in the eye and explain to her that her prior behavior was uncalled for, as her outfit amounted to an entrapment so alluring that no reasonable man could have resisted. She will then apologize profusely, analogize the showcasing of her boobs to me colorfully decorating my pubic area, and then offer to make amends by inviting me home for a private viewing.
Okay, more likely, I'm going to walk up to her, look her in the eye, and then stare at her breasts some more until she recites a similar sermon equating me and my unconscious drooling to that of a particularly unrefined caveman. Did I mention there was glitter?
[Breasts] [Shoes] [Glitter] [Pam Anderson]
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