Random Esquire

“People need a little loving and, God, sometimes

it’s sad the shit they have to go through to find some.”

Richard Brautigan

1.  I was recently expressing some melancholy to a friend about the frustration, sadness, helplessness and sometimes hopelessness of loving another person.  I am, for better or for worse, cursed with an ability to see the lighter side of just about everything in life – in those situations where laughing may be the only substitute for crying.  And I don’t cry.

As I sat there and let loose things that had been on my mind and unloaded what has been feeling like a heaviness, I began to feel a little lighter.  And then my friend, in sincere and utter honesty, and pure fellowship of being said:

“Love.  What a cunt.”

And the pure truth of it, the shock of it – made me laugh so hard that any tear I might shed made itself known then, in the midst of laughing with a friend.

And then in what seemed like an utter release, she said, “God.  I love that word.”

Which made me laugh even harder.  It was, however, the next line that pushed me over the edge:

“I smell T-shirts!  Finally, my millions!”

2.  Today, I listened to QTMama discuss her own frustrations about love and relationships.  And again, in the midst of genuine sadness and frustration, though not my own, I found myself laughing with someone else who also sometimes laughs at these moments of earnest emotion.  I listened as QT expressed her frustration at not finding someone.

She asked, “What is wrong with me?  It’s been two years.”

I said, “You will not like my answer.”

*silence*

I said, “There is nothing wrong with you.”

And then…. QT said, “I haven’t had sex in forever, I regrew my hymen last week.”

*Blink*

And then I just burst out laughing.  I said, “You cannot say shit like that!”

She said, “What? About what?”

“ABOUT YOUR HYMEN,” I yelled, “That shit doesn’t happen!”

She said, “IT DOES….

…well, not really.  But FIGURATIVELY SPEAKING.”

I couldn’t stop laughing.

And she said, “I am now WITH hymen again.”

She continued, “It’s my hymen, me…and I’ll get some cats.”

I said, “You should write this shit.”

She said, “Because the world should know that I haven’t had sex in YEARS?”

I said, “It hasn’t been years!”

QT said, “Yes it has…

…Figuratively speaking.”

I said, “You can’t make everything you say true by adding ‘figuratively speaking‘ to the end of it!”

Then I said, “This conversation cracks me up. Can I blog this? Pleasepleaseplease?”

QT shouted, “OKAYFINE.”

And there you have it.

“Love is all fire; and so heaven and hell are the same place.”

Norman O. Brown

I’ve had this conversation a few times with women – about breasts and what makes for nice breasts.  I can only tell you my own observations and opinions on this topic and naturally, I am a little tongue in cheek about it.  But…as far as I can tell, there are three overall things that might define nice breasts – in order – from least important to most important.

Size

Size matters.  But probably not as much as I once thought that it did.  Size makes a difference.  But probably not as much as other things.

It may seem like the attraction to breasts is purely based upon size but that’s probably a gross oversimplification.  It’s just that breast size is the most obvious thing about them.  Large breasts usually have some movement to them and, like a dinosaur, it’s the movement that captures the the eye.  But really?  I don’t have a walnut sized dinosaur brain and I can see things that aren’t swaying with every step.

At one point in my life, I thought that C-cups were sort of perfect.  Not too big, not too small.  Perfect!  Then I met and fell in love with a woman with DD breasts.  And I’ll be damned if they weren’t perfect.  Then along into my life came a series of women with B-cups.  And my god, those were perfect, too.  Saying that you love breasts but only large breasts is like saying you love women but only love blondes.

I sometimes refer to breasts as … a snack tray.  Yes, I realize that makes me sound a little bit like an asshole.  But it isn’t entirely off base.  They are like a snack.  Like an appetizer.  An amuse bouche, if you will.  Something to whet the appetite.  Something that makes you hungry for more.

Which leads us to …

(more…)