Back in my College days I dated this girl we'll just call Good Girl. The description fit her quite well. Smart, beautiful, didn't drink (much), went to church, virtuous (dangit!), didn't curse, the list goes on and on.
I have no idea what she was doing with me.
Quite naturally, her roommate at the time was Bad Girl.
One day I'm over at the girls' apartment and Good Girl and I are trying to figure out what we are going to do later that evening, mainly by passing back and forth "I dunno, what do you want to do?"s. We were sitting on the couch, just hanging out, when Bad Girl came out of her room and sat on the floor, close to the tv.
The girls had known each other from childhood, moved away, and reconnected in College. They were both pretty and smart, but that was about where the similarities ended. Where Good Girl rarely went past her 1/2 glass of wine limit, Bad Girl could almost drink me under the table, and she was a tiny girl. When they would go out for a night of dancing, Good Girl would wear a pair of jeans that accented her figure, Bad Girl would wear a sexy little dress (and for those who keep tabs on those kinds of things, on occasion the 'unmentionables' would stay at the apartment... so I hear). Good Girl was maintaining her virtuous nature, Bad Girl was... definitely not. Not that I judged Bad Girl or anything, modern times and all, but when I would go over to hang out with Good Girl, the moans and groans of her roommate in the next room made things somewhat... weird. When the guy started up, well, that was a bit much for me.
The thing that really killed me was the fact that she seemed to be especially attracted to unavailable guys, and those that would treat her like crap. After the inevitable heart break, she would dramatically go on and on about how all men are pigs.
Pigs? I though we were dogs. *Oink? Woof?... Oif, or Woink?*
So Bad Girl walks out of her room, and I noticed that she had changed her clothes. When I had arrived at the apartment that particular evening, she had been wearing the thigh-short length purple silky robe that she liked to wear so much. After a curious pause for conversation in the back room, Good Girl convinced Bad Girl that it would be a good thing to change clothes while I was hanging out, apparently lest Good Girl display her evil 'Back Off, Bitch!!' side. Bad Girl had then changed into some shorty shorts and a cut-off shirt. I offered to let Bad Girl sit on the couch, but she mumbled that she was fine where she was.
Good Girl got up to go to the kitchen to get a couple glasses of tea when the phone rang. The phone in the apartment was in the living room, but as they were in the process of deciding on furniture that was acceptable to two somewhat picky wimmens, it was located on the carpet at the far end of the living room. Bad Girl crawled on her hands and knees about the 5 feet to the phone, (I most definitely knew better than to stare), and exclaimed her greetings.
When I glanced (glanced, I say!!!) over in Bad Girl's general direction, I distinctly remember thinking to myself, 'Oh lookiethere. Boobies.' Her cut-off was somewhat larger than her slight frame, and the angle at which she was now propped up on her elbows and knees (!?!), facing away from me, provided pretty much the perfect angle to note that a bra was too much effort that night.
For 99.999% of the time, when a guy sees breasteses as a part of an evening with a lady friend, this is most definitely known as a Good Thing.
This blog (and pretty much the entirety of my life) being what it is, naturally I have discovered that .001% exception to the rule.
See, whilst I was noting the boobage factor and contemplating why is it that guys are notorious for their dislike of all felines save for sweater kittens, I remember thinking to myself, 'Self, ok, now those are kinda nice, but... how's it going to look if Good Girl peeks around that corner right now? Think she's going to buy the fact that we weren't staring, just looking over to the phone to see what all the hubbub is about? That's what I thought! Eyes, get 'em off, now!' I obeyed my inner party-pooper only to discover that Good Girl was in fact at the archway of the kitchen and living room, giving me a stare that told me I had a one-way ticket to the rocket express shit list, top floor, seating for one, lucky winner moi.
That's about the time when I realized what a good racket selling flowers and chocolates must be... As long as there are guys, there will always be a market. As long as I was in the market, the florists' kids were practically guaranteed that fat college fund.
I have no idea what she was doing with me.
Quite naturally, her roommate at the time was Bad Girl.
One day I'm over at the girls' apartment and Good Girl and I are trying to figure out what we are going to do later that evening, mainly by passing back and forth "I dunno, what do you want to do?"s. We were sitting on the couch, just hanging out, when Bad Girl came out of her room and sat on the floor, close to the tv.
The girls had known each other from childhood, moved away, and reconnected in College. They were both pretty and smart, but that was about where the similarities ended. Where Good Girl rarely went past her 1/2 glass of wine limit, Bad Girl could almost drink me under the table, and she was a tiny girl. When they would go out for a night of dancing, Good Girl would wear a pair of jeans that accented her figure, Bad Girl would wear a sexy little dress (and for those who keep tabs on those kinds of things, on occasion the 'unmentionables' would stay at the apartment... so I hear). Good Girl was maintaining her virtuous nature, Bad Girl was... definitely not. Not that I judged Bad Girl or anything, modern times and all, but when I would go over to hang out with Good Girl, the moans and groans of her roommate in the next room made things somewhat... weird. When the guy started up, well, that was a bit much for me.
The thing that really killed me was the fact that she seemed to be especially attracted to unavailable guys, and those that would treat her like crap. After the inevitable heart break, she would dramatically go on and on about how all men are pigs.
Pigs? I though we were dogs. *Oink? Woof?... Oif, or Woink?*
So Bad Girl walks out of her room, and I noticed that she had changed her clothes. When I had arrived at the apartment that particular evening, she had been wearing the thigh-short length purple silky robe that she liked to wear so much. After a curious pause for conversation in the back room, Good Girl convinced Bad Girl that it would be a good thing to change clothes while I was hanging out, apparently lest Good Girl display her evil 'Back Off, Bitch!!' side. Bad Girl had then changed into some shorty shorts and a cut-off shirt. I offered to let Bad Girl sit on the couch, but she mumbled that she was fine where she was.
Good Girl got up to go to the kitchen to get a couple glasses of tea when the phone rang. The phone in the apartment was in the living room, but as they were in the process of deciding on furniture that was acceptable to two somewhat picky wimmens, it was located on the carpet at the far end of the living room. Bad Girl crawled on her hands and knees about the 5 feet to the phone, (I most definitely knew better than to stare), and exclaimed her greetings.
When I glanced (glanced, I say!!!) over in Bad Girl's general direction, I distinctly remember thinking to myself, 'Oh lookiethere. Boobies.' Her cut-off was somewhat larger than her slight frame, and the angle at which she was now propped up on her elbows and knees (!?!), facing away from me, provided pretty much the perfect angle to note that a bra was too much effort that night.
For 99.999% of the time, when a guy sees breasteses as a part of an evening with a lady friend, this is most definitely known as a Good Thing.
This blog (and pretty much the entirety of my life) being what it is, naturally I have discovered that .001% exception to the rule.
See, whilst I was noting the boobage factor and contemplating why is it that guys are notorious for their dislike of all felines save for sweater kittens, I remember thinking to myself, 'Self, ok, now those are kinda nice, but... how's it going to look if Good Girl peeks around that corner right now? Think she's going to buy the fact that we weren't staring, just looking over to the phone to see what all the hubbub is about? That's what I thought! Eyes, get 'em off, now!' I obeyed my inner party-pooper only to discover that Good Girl was in fact at the archway of the kitchen and living room, giving me a stare that told me I had a one-way ticket to the rocket express shit list, top floor, seating for one, lucky winner moi.
That's about the time when I realized what a good racket selling flowers and chocolates must be... As long as there are guys, there will always be a market. As long as I was in the market, the florists' kids were practically guaranteed that fat college fund.
4 comments:
mmmmm, boobies......
Sorry, was that out loud?
Don't feel bad, my sister in law, known Oxygen Thief, likes to do that as well.
I hate her.
But that is one (and only) thing about her I like.
...although I hate myself for not being able to not look.....
You got a leg up on most of us. In my younger days I'd get busted just looking at a chick that was fully dressed, with no possibility of seeing boobage.
I think the florists are in league with the friends/sisters/roommates of our wimmens. It's the only explanation.
tweaker
I do not understand why women get so upset when their guy notices "things" hanging before them.
Now, if he's slack-jawed and drooling or reaching out to touch someone it might be different.
Getting flowers never has rung my chimes either...wanna' apologize to me? Wash some clothes or dishes and all can be forgiven.
Ah yes, the forbidden 'fru-ets'. At least I got (somewhat) legitemately busted; I've gotten in trouble for spinning my head around to check out a hot lookin' bike on the side of the road. Honest, I didn't even know the chica was struttin' her stuff, but my date sure did... *smack*-'Ow!'
Snigs, that reminded me of one lady friend that actually did kind of like flowers, but felt much more strongly that a good foot massage > roses and/or chocolates and/or heroin and/or Brad Pitt and/or cards and/or etc.
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