Random Esquire

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…)

1.  I am working today – on MLK Day.  Best thing I heard?

“I think all somewhat brown people should have today off. I’m so annoyed that I’m sitting at my desk.”

Amen.

2.  QTMama and I may, in fact, be getting married at age 50.  Not the best weekend for either of us.  However, she sent me a message that did make me laugh.

“I read eight books in four days. Have not turned on the tv in days. Is the world okay?”

3.  I’ve decided I want to try my hand at nude photography.

That is the type of sentence that needs all kinds of clarification.  I have decided I would like to try my skills at photographing nude subjects.  There isn’t really any way to tell someone you’d like to try this without sounding at least slightly like a douchebag.

4.  Do you ever have an ache of sorts and it feels like someone is jabbing a finger in it and making it worse? And then you realize OH, IT IS YOURSELF.

5.  I am going to write an entry on breast size.  I don’t know why I feel like I have to brace people for that.

1.  Remember how I got my parents new phones and an unlimited text plan?  My father has been trying to teach my mother how to send text messages.  By “trying to teach”, I mean “forcing her to learn”.

Today, he forwarded a message to me and said, “This is mom’s first text message to me.”

It said: “You drive me craze.”

English is her second language.  I sort of think it’s the best text message ever.

2.  A friend of mine recently lost her father.  This is the same close friend whose cousins drove their father’s ashes around in a Nieman-Marcus bag in the trunk of their car.  Needless to say, the family has a wild side and a very good sense of humor.  Her father was also quite the character.

I had flowers sent for his service and was understandably upset when a friend told me that they had not arrived.  I called the florist, left a message and a half hour later, got a call back.  The flowers had been delivered to the wrong funeral.

See, the thing is - I had them write a message on the card.   And this means… that someone else’s funeral had flowers at them with a card that said:

“WHAT A PISTOL.”

All I could think was that I hope it wasn’t a gunshot victim.

3.  My dinner last night – fondly nicknamed my Lady Date by Dysfunction Junction – was awesome.  The restaurant is always so gracious and awesome. Kitchen / Back of House tour ended the evening.  Evening started, however, with a gift which shall heretofore be known as LADY DATE PENELOPE.

It’s a heart picture frame in which they’d placed a picture of Penelope Cruz.  I shall be taking her to different locations and taking picture of her like she’s the Travelocity Garden Gnome.

1.  It’s obvious when I’m over-thinking anything.  I stop writing.  Clearly, clearly, the writing I do takes really, just the barest minimum of thought.  Minimal thought = de rigueur to write or read RandomEsq.

2.  You know what I’m eating?

Birthday cake.  Random FTW!

You know how QT wished me a happy birthday?

“Happy Birthday, Retard.”

Like I said, folks – a minimal amount of thought is good.

3.  I put my parents on my mobile phone plan and got them each new phones with a keyboard. Then I got them unlimited text messaging.  And then I got my first text message from them.

“hi.”

Well, that’s proven useful.

4.  I have four dates tomorrow night.

That’s right.

Four.

Well, I’m taking four ladies to dinner.  Not four different dinners. I couldn’t eat four dinners in a row.  Or even out of a row.

I let the chef know I was coming and bringing four attractive women with me.  He’s going to demand two of them.  I’ll let him choose which two he’d like.

And then I’ll take one back as a finder’s fee.

And he’ll only get one.

And I will get three.

And it will be RANDOM FTW!

5.  Well, after that brief week of nearly no writing… I do believe I am back in the saddle again.

Remember the other day when I asked what your Dating Style is?  What one characteristic about you attracted people the most?  I’m not sure I’m in love with QT’s answer for what was my most attractive characteristic because it makes me sound like …well, …like an attorney.  Of all the nerve.

Well, the other day, I may have said that women should come with disclaimers or warning labels.  This became a bit of a twitter discussion and it was decided that everyone should come with a Dating Disclaimer.

Beth suggested that mine would say, “I’m fun.  But exceedingly selective.”

I’m not sure that the women I have dated would agree with this.  So, I decided I’d give it a go and write down what I think the last few women I’ve dated (and written about here) would say should be my Dating Disclaimer:

Besos:  “Breast maniac.  Busy with side hobbies and activities to the point that you may feel unimportant.”

Plush:  “Breast obsessed.”

Boss:  “Surprisingly may not buy you the 3 carat ring you picked out.  Also, breast crazy.”

Honestly? if I had to come up with a genuine disclaimer about myself and dating…it think it might say:

Warning:  Too Literal.

What can I say?  It’s a problem.

So, fess up, folks.  What’s your Dating Disclaimer?

1.  This morning, a friend sent this tweet: “I do it once a season: I’ll catch Josh Groban singing O Holy Night and by the second bar I’m sobbing and have nearly blown out my speakers.”

I responded, “That sort of made me laugh and then feel badly about it after.” I’m telling you, if I saw that happen, I wouldn’t be able to help myself.  I’d laugh.  In fact, I sort of feel like playing the song the next time I see my friend.

And then I realized that shameful laughter is really the best.  The kind where you’re laughing because it’s funny but also just slightly nervous that someone will call you out on in.  Sort of like QT laughing when people fall down. Or like Two Assholes Talking in which we may have said a woman looked like a Dr. Seuss Who.  You sort of feel badly.  But not enough not to laugh.

2.  Someone pointed out to me that all the women in my life lived in a constant state of limbo between laughing and crying.  I found this strangely rewarding.  I’m sure, however, that if you asked Besos or Boss, they might not quite see it that way.  Plush, however, would probably delightfully clap her hands.  Women are complicated.

3.  I have a Playlist on my iPod that includes: Fortunate Son, Give Peace a Chance, Run Through the Jungle, You Really Got Me, War (What is it good for?) and Imagine.  My neighbor was over and heard it and looked at my iPod in the player and said, “You named the playlist… The Hanoi Hilton Remix?”    And see, this is why I don’t listen to music. Everyone’s a critic.

Remember how I said that I was going to give up chasing women and just let someone seduce me?  I’m failing miserably.  What can I say?  I like to chase.

Anyway, in a somewhat related conversation, I asked QT what adjective she’d use to describe her dating style.  Not necessarily how you see yourself but what is it that tends to draw people to you.  What over-arching characteristic about you tends to attract people?  For example, I think that when people see QT, they think: “FUN.”  That’s the word that first pops into my head.  She’s usually laughing or, at the very least, has a smile on her face.  That kind of energy attracts people to her.

I asked her what word she’s use for me.

She thought and said, “So, what is the ONE word that describes a…”

I listened closely and was pleased to hear her say “self aware, financially stable,…”

and then it went downhill.

“…boob loving, motorboating, does-not-put-up-with-women-emotions-but-dates-women kind of person?”

I’m sure I curled my lip a little.

I said, “EVOLVED?  It is EVOLVED?”

And then she said this:

“Well, I don’t think anyone would look at you and say FUN.”

*Blink*

I had to laugh because I think the first thing most people learn about me is that I have an active sense of humor.  I find pretty much everything around me amusing on some level.  And, just to clarify – I actually tend to find emotional women very attractive.  I just have limits.  They are high – but they are there.  *cough*

Anyway, we did not come up with a good one for me.   We tentatively agreed on ‘politely aggressive’ but that makes me sound a little like an ape with some manners and doesn’t really answer the question, I don’t think.  I like to think that I’m very respectful of women.  Maybe that is my style?  I don’t know what my style would be because, well, I think I’d have to ask the women I’ve dated.

As for styles I like? I suppose it depends and evolves as I do.  Strong, confident women are attractive – especially if they are teasing me just a bit.  I enjoy a good tease because I like to chase.  No one wants to chase someone in a straight line until they catch them.  That’s call catching up.  I like to chase.

I think I just decided that I’m respectfully aggressive.  I’m a socially conscious ape.  Fabulous.

So how would you describe your dating style? What is it about you that you think attracts people to you? Is there a particular over-arching personality trait that you find irresistible in someone?

I have a buddy who is planning on breaking up with his non-girlfriend  shortly.  They’ve been seeing each other for two months.  We were hanging out a few days ago and when his mobile rang, he took a look, saw it was her… and groaned.  Not a good sign.  Heh.  And it does not look like she’s going to let go easily.  Facebook, Twitter,… so many ways to stalk, so little time.  I informed him that he should wait 2 weeks since the last time they had sex.  Plus, she just had minor surgery and is relying on him for some things.  So he’s pretty much f*cked.  Which, of course, I find delightful.

I have genuinely sympathy for him as it is hard to tell someone that it isn’t working out when you know they will be hurt.

Correct that.  I had genuine sympathy for him.  Until I got a text message from him in which he informed me that she got angry at him that day because he farted on her three days ago.  I laughed.

Then he mentioned that it was after she’d given him a blow job.

*Blink*

But let me back up.  Here’s a transcript:

RE:  Is it bad I sorta want yer nongirlfriend to stalk you for my entertainment purposes?

Friend:  Only if you come stand guard.

RE:  No way.  She will turn her black eye…the eye of Mordor…on me.

Friend:  Srsly, the “you farted in my face after I have you a bj” moment is now the touchstone of our “relationship.”  I didn’t mean it but I can’t explain it away.

RE:  Dude.  After a BJ?  You deserve the stalking.

Friend: Un, in the CONTEXT of the situation, not so bad.  And she’s farted on me!

RE:  You guys farted on each other after 2 months of dating?  Dude.  You are both kicked out of the human race.  I’m totally gonna blog about you.

Let’s pause here – because I’d like to point out that he somehow thought this could be explained away if I only knew the context.  And I’m here to tell you that it cannot.  Unless she was dying and his farts are the breath of life (which, unfortunately, I can tell you they are not and I have this knowledge after attending a movie with said friend who, upon finding seats, promptly farted me and I dropped my drink on the theatre floor.  Fun for all!), I’m not thinking that any context is going to help him here.  Anyway, continuing on:

Friend:   I swear it wasn’t “in her face” it was pointed in another direction.  And I”m pretty sure I’ve done/said worse.

This was followed by:

Friend:  I mean, HOW DOES THIS UPSET HER 3 DAYS LATER?

I really can’t stop laughing about this.

1.  On Friday, Little Filthy went to the vet for a check-up.  He got microchipped.  I mentioned this to Besos.

She said it sounded like a good idea.  And that she was going to consider getting me microchipped as well.

WTF.

2.  I told Besos today, “You need a husband.”

She said, “Oh, yeah, I guess.   Whatever.  Did you see American Idol tonight?”

*stomp!*

3.  So.  I told Besos I was in love.  Here’s how it went.

I screwed up my face and called up my courage and said, “I’m in love with you.”

You know what she said?

She said:

“I know.”

*Blank Face*

1.  I get these dumb ideas sometimes.  Most recently, I thought maybe I would only speak in song lyrics to Besos and I’d see if she noticed.  This idea came to me when I told her that I love her and she responded, “All of me?”  I wanted to say, “I could not love you any better…. I love you just the way you are.”

I suspect, however, that she would be unamused very quickly.  Plus, I think after writing that song, Billy Joel promptly dumped his wife and married Christie Brinkley.  So, you know….never mind.

2.  I spoke with the Italian.  He complained about not having sex.  It has been six weeks, mind you.  When I told him that six weeks wasn’t a lifetime (especially for a man who attends to his own needs more times in a day than I blink), he kindly informed me that his days without sex are like dog years.  He also informed me that he now loves T of Quest for T.   He did this by calling me and saying, “Finally, some good has come from reading your blog.”  Apparently he clicky and he likey.

I wanted to sing, “Neeever gonna get it, never gonna get it. Never gonna get it, never gonna get it.”

But I didn’t.

3.  I had dinner with Instigator last night.  She told me pregnancy and birth stories.  She had three rules for her husband regarding the birth.  1) Show up.  2) Don’t faint.  3) Be quiet.  And then she told me (as I went pale) the most disturbing parts of giving birth – for herself and for her husband.   I started to go blind at the mention of a large funnel.

The thing is, I think I asked her about how bad pregnancy was.

And after hearing, I wanted to sing to myself, “Whhhyyyyyyyyyy….  I tell myself too many times why don’t you ever learn to keep your big mouth shut.”

[Edited to add] Well, since Besos busted me out…I’ll admit.  I did call her and sing to her.  I sang I just called to say I love you. BUSTED.