Not for nothing, but when I admire a woman from afar, I look for certain qualities—or the unique traits that one already has. For instance, I love a woman who has curves, more on the voluptuous side—not necessarily someone of much avoirdupois. I look for woman who carries herself with confidence; someone who is not afraid of letting their hair down—but of course, done with class. I love the femininity of a woman; a woman who relishes in ‘being a lady’. This quality, I found in Madelene.
When Madelene and I venture out on the town, we both love to admire the beauty of a woman. We even say to one another, “Oh look—she is so beautiful!” We are aware that we’re both sexual beings, with eyes—so why fight it? It’s actually really interesting to sit at a bar and see who piques our interests.
Now, as you all know, last Saturday night, we went out for our anniversary. After dinner, we headed over to this new bar that opened up. It was this old looking, country western looking type of bar. We were there to meet a bunch of old friends that we haven’t seen in a very long time. As the night went on, and the band starting playing really good music, the bar started getting crowded. As I watched people rush in, I noticed that most of these people were under the age of twenty-five.
Here’s my concern. I caught myself numerous times eyeing up girls that were about ten years younger than me. I felt like a complete pedophile—because they looked like they just got out of high-school. Let me tell you, some of these girls looked like models. I slowly turned my head towards Madelene and asked, “Is it me? Or do these girls look a bit young?” Madelene laughed. Then I noticed something else alarming. These girls had absolutely no rear end. Their asses were as small as an eight year old boy’s. (I think some women actually try to achieve that look.) I’ve heard of that expression before, and was shocked. Why would a woman want an eight year old boy’s ass? You could have put your hand around their waistline, and closed it into a fist. That’s how thin some of these girls were. They almost appeared anorexic.
The dam finally broke after a few beers, and I headed off to the bathroom. Two stalls, a small sink and ten girls surrounding the vanity was like a 50% off sale at Macy’s. I waited amongst these very frail ladies to get into a free stall. My turn approaches. I go in expecting cleanliness—since it is a new place that just opened up. No. I was wrong. The floors were so wet, that I had to watch myself carefully, or I would have pulled a “Kathi”. Seriously. I would have fell on my ass and sat in someone else’s urine. To make this experience even more pleasant, there was a sign on the wall.
“Please use the lever to flush the toilet. We are out of parts right now. We’re waiting for them to be shipped in from China. -Management”
I swear—no lie, the sign said this. Anyone who has read that sign, will know which bar I am speaking of. So to flush the toilet, I literally had to reach my hand inside the back of the toilet to push down a lever. Beautiful! Now that’s class.
I walk out of the stall, and there are women literally on top of each other, trying to get the next available toilet. I walk over to the sink, wait my turn, and then wash my hands. To my horror, they ran out of paper towels.
I stand there air drying my hands off, and wiping the rest on my jeans. Now I’m thinking, “Oh God…it’s flu season, and I didn’t get my flu shot yet.”
“Oh, come here! Let me give you some lotion since there are no paper towels and the soap smells like shit.” A young frail (very pretty) girl says to me.
She walks up to me, pulls out my hand, and squirts out this fragrant lotion. She starts massaging the lotion into my hands, almost erotically. If I was a man, I definitely would have been pitchin’ the ol’ tent here. I felt like a pervert because I was enjoying it way too much.
“Oh my God, I’m a pedophile. Oh my God, this girl is not even twenty-one years old. This is so bad. Wow this is such a turn on!”
The pretty girl smiles at me, and sends me on my way. I walked back into the bar and sat down with the rest of my friends. I explain my awkward situation to Madelene, to only get laughed at. She knows how particular I am about people touching my hands—especially during flu season. I almost wanted to go back to the sink to wash up again, but that would have looked rude. My anti-bacterial gel was in the car. I needed another drink to make me forget.
As we all watched the ‘young adults’ dancing around to the live music, we noticed this eccentric lady. She was dancing around almost ritual-like, forming a circle around the crowd. She was heavyset, wearing a dress bedizened with a million tassels, and colors that would nearly blind you. It was almost as if she was in her own trance, dancing around erratically, carefree and more confident than any of these little beauties prancing around in size zero pants. Although it made us all chuckle a bit, I was more impressed with her confidence. She had more self-esteem than any one of these girls—who were absolutely stunning.
Are young women so caught up with trying to look like models that they forget about the sexiest quality—confidence? If these women go out looking ‘less than perfect’, do they sink into a hole of depression? I was really concerned about the health of these girls. I am not exaggerating when I state that some of these women were no more than a hundred pounds each---or less!
Not for nothing, but give me a woman who knows how to eat a steak and drink a good ale any day!
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