Why do men love boobs?
It's a question I never really thought about when I was a guy. I just did. I liked the shape of them, the size of them, the look and feel of them, to the extent I ever felt them. I can almost remember turning my head to stare at a woman as she walked by. Sometimes I still do, but not with the same thoughts.
Every guy I've ever been with has gone straight for my tits. As soon as they've got you making out, you can expect the hand to come up, reaching under the shirt, feeling the underwire... sometimes they go right under, sometimes they go straight for the clasp. They like to grope, feel, squeeze... it doesn't always make the situation better for me (God knows I hated it for a while even after I started dating guys) but if you really like someone, you'll let them do just about anything. Plus they definitely feel good to be kissed or touched ever so lightly... or hard.
I'm probably more understanding about that than a lot of girls but as I look myself in the mirror tonight, getting ready for a date, making sure I have my cleavage just perfect, I find myself so exhausted by them and the attention they get. Life might've been easier for me if I'd wound up as a flat-chested girl, but the inn gave me something to work with.
Dressing up. Going out. I remember when that just meant a suit and tie and the most uncomfortable thing was the shoes. Now... well, it's still the shoes, but there's the bra and the makeup and all that time-consuming makeup.
So yes, I started dating again. And no, it's not an 18-year-old, it's a guy I met at a singles event in February. I saw him checking me out from across the room and at first I was rolling my eyes but we got to talking and he impressed me. His name's Irwin. We had a mutual friend, a co-worker of mine to help break the ice. At first I didn't know what to say, but he didn't try any lines, he just started making conversation, asking me about my work and my life, and what TV shows I watched - we bonded over Doctor Who - and before I knew it I was talking to him like we already knew each other.
He's African-American. He asked me if I thought there was a difference between dating black guys and white guys. I said I don't know because I've never dated a black guy. And then my face turned bright red because "Oh my God did that sound racist??"
He laughed, and then said yeah, you'd have to be a little racist to live in Philly your whole life and never date a black guy. He was joking but I felt so self-conscious because I grew up in Buffalo in an area which is whiter than you can imagine, but as you know my "official" story is that I grew up in Philly, which is very diverse. And yeah, I think Tori has dated African-Americans, guys who tried to get in contact with me for a while after I became her, then stopped calling after I never answered. Anyway, he used this embarrassment to convince me I needed to go out with him. If he wasn't so damn charming (and a Whovian to boot) I probably wouldn't have been so easily won over. The alcohol probably helped, as did the dryspell.
Anyway, time passed and we kept putting off our date for this reason or that, but tonight is the night and I decided to check in on the blog to let you know how things were going with me... I know my world isn't exactly in full gear anymore but it's still my life and you are always still so welcoming.