(Scarlett Johannson and the Golden Globes)
Once upon a time, I read this really cool blog that had hardly any readers. I loved this blog. The writer was terrific. I felt as if I had a personal relationship with this blogger. Then, all of a sudden, she was found out by others, and is now very popular. I lost interest.
Many years ago, I remember hearing Prince’s first album on some obscure independent radio station. I bought the album. I felt like I had "discovered" a new artist. A year later, everyone had heard of him. People laughed in my face when I said that I was the "first" to listen to him. I never bought another Prince album.
I’ve always been in love with women’s breasts. But slowly I’m realizing that 98% of the population is obsessed with them, both men and women. In fact, it’s almost all I see on television and magazines.
For all practical purposes, I should be bored with breasts. I should be an "ass man" or a "leg man" or a "earlobe" man — something less mainstream and "bourgeois." Being a breast man is like reading "The Da Vinci Code" in the subway. Or watching "American Idol."
Today, I am officially over women’s breasts.
From now on, I’m going to sexualize women in less obvious ways. I think you expect more of me.
Like with Prince, no one is going to believe that I was the first one to discover the joy of seeing a woman’s breasts freed from her clothing, or that I deserve a special "Golden Globe" Award for starting the now-hip-trend of "feeling a woman up."
Yes, the Boobie era is over for me. You female bloggers that were reluctant to send topless photos to me before, now have nothing to worry about.
Email away. Your breasts will do nothing for me.
I have one word for you: 36G.
Your loss.
52 comments.
I can’t imagine not liking something anymore, just because someone else likes it. What the hell does it matter if someone else discovered it after you? I guess this means, you never really like these things in the first place, if it was so easy for you to give them up , just because you’re afraid of some label someone might place on you. How sad to live a life always worrying about what all the other humans are thinking of you.
Fae, thanks for stopping by. I think you misread what I actually said. I’m not so worried about what others think about me, but about my own relationship with something I like. If anything, it exposes me to be a bit of a snob and selfish. I like it when my likes and interests are personal and special to me and me alone. I’m an only child, so maybe that has something to do with it. I’ve been like that with friends, too, preferring a few very close friends who I can call at 3AM whenever I want, rather than a lot of friends who I’m “sharing” with countless others.
I do worry about what other people think about me, but that’s another issue.
And good news, I’m beginning to miss boobs again!
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I love breasts, Scarlett Johansson, and this photo!
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