The Breast Man

I think it might be a little known fact that a large number of gay men are actually fascinated by female breasts.

I don’t think it comes from a place of sexual desire or from a longing to sport a pair, but they are definitely objects of intense curiosity. Speaking for myself, I often look at them with the same utilitarian thought process that I would apply to empty shelving space. After all, with the right push-up bra there is relatively little difference between busty cleavage and a gently sloping fire place mantle. When I imagine what you could do with that kind of surface area, my mind conjures images of framed graduation pictures, the obligatory ceramic cherub, or perhaps a small wicker basket of potpourri. The possibilities are truly endless.

Mental meanderings aside, I feel somewhat resentful when women wear tight T-shirts with words or phrases emblazoned upon them. Every time I have made an effort to read the text in question, I inevitably get a dirty look from the female loaded with the disdain so often reserved for perverts. Once, a young woman actually said to me, “Hey! Stop staring at my chest!”

To this I replied, “I am merely reading what your shirt has to say. Your breasts appear to be fervent supporters of Barack Obama. I hope they are registered to vote.”

Breasts: The undiscovered storage space.

Breasts: The undiscovered shelving space.

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Pumpkin Spice Lattes Don’t Cure Low Self-Esteem

On my break today, I went downstairs to the office lobby all giddy to try one of these pumpkin spice lattes from Starbuck’s that everyone’s been talking about.

As I was standing in line, the young man in front of me turned around to reveal a crass T-shirt that said:

I couldn’t help but take it personally…..and for the record: Pumpkin spice lattes don’t remedy the wounds of low self-esteem. I still felt like a hideous wretch while pouring all that tasty goodness into my ugly face.