Have you ever had a moment where you think perhaps someone was born without that special filter? The one that stops them from saying everything they’re thinking OUT LOUD? Well I had a date with Mr. Filter-Challenged not too long ago.
Our brief conversations up until that fateful night had a bit of sexual innuendo to them. Nothing too risque, just some playful ribbing. So it wasn’t at all strange or inappropriate when during dinner he jokingly said “I was trying to check out your ass on the way in, but your pants aren’t tight enough!”
I even joked back, mentioning more than one person has said I need this shirt which boldly states “Who Needs Big Tits When You’ve Got An Ass Like This.” Now bringing up the shirt wasn’t meant as a slam against my chestal region, which is modest but perfectly lovely in its own right. It was just meant to alert him to the fact that my ass is indeed a fine, fine slice of all that is right and good with the world.
So I mentioned the shirt, and we laughed, and talked about something else, and then there was some silence while we chewed. And then, as I’m sitting there eating whatever it was I ordered, watching the waitress in the background try not to drop stuff, out of TOTAL SILENCE, my date says
“You know, your breasts really are in perfect proportion to the rest of your upper body… it looks good… you’ve really got nothing to worry about there…”
OH NO HE DIDN’T!
OH YES HE DID!
What planet is he from that it’s ok for him to a) say that out loud and b) reveal that for at least the past six minutes, he’s been staring at my chest, evaluating its proportionality to the rest of my body – or more simply BASICALLY SAY OUT LOUD THAT HE’S BEEN OGLING MY TITS OVER TERIYAKI CHICKEN.
The worst part of it all? Our table was positioned such that I couldn’t even make the “I’m going to the ladies’ room” excuse and bolt out of there as fast as my feet would carry me!
Instead I powered through the rest of my dinner, declined desert and threw a “thanks for a lovely evening” over my shoulder as I dashed for my car.
Note to self: Perhaps wear a Burkha on dates from now on. And always call ahead of time to ask for a table that is out of view of both the bathrooms, and the exit!