Much as the Cat in the Hat had Thing 1 and Thing 2 to keep him entertained on rainy days, I have Boob 1 and Boob 2.
Most times, in the privacy of my own home, they don't do a whole hell of a lot for me. They get in the way, I spill things on them, and they prevent me from seeing my lower body when looking directly down. Buuuut, when I take them outside… oh, oh, oh the places we go!
They make my shirts look fabulous, my stomach look smaller by default and they create a perfect display for a number of necklaces. They also score me some fabulously free beverages. Not to say that I have them on some kind of ridiculous display at all times or that I walk up to guys and offer a motorboat in exchange for a gin and tonic. Simply, my boobs working side by side (unintentional pun) with my friendly disposition, mean that I rarely spend more than $10 on a night out with the intent of getting intoxicated.
The problem arises when men confuse a drink at a downtown bar with a drink at a strip club. Amazingly, no, just because you spent $6-$8 dollars on a drink does not mean you gain any access beyond trying to keep my attention for the 5 minutes while the drink is made.
This is not to say that I go around trying to pawn free drinks off of sad men drowning their sorrows while looking for a quick boob grab. Nay, I only accept free drinks from people that I genuinely think might be interesting to talk to or look at for a period of time. Frankly, it's not my fault if you fail miserably with the time alloted. Should I chose to then take my beverage elsewhere, the jig is up for you, sorry.
On more than one occasion lately, I have been bought a drink, quickly realized the man was either too drunk or too stupid and attempted my usual, "walk away quickly" maneuver only to be told, "No!". Twice now I have been the victim of what I shall call, "mouth rape" or "boob grabage". I have yet to form a committee but if these heinous acts continue, I will!
So boys, please send word, a drink is that, nothing more. Instead of thinking that I cashed in a, "You can make out with me" coupon for a gin and tonic. Please realize that the choice was yours, what you do with your 5 minutes of fame is up to you. As long as it doesn't involve your hands or my face.
This article appears in Dec 2-8, 2000.