Posted by: jt | May 29, 2008

my smile, still, stays on

It’s 7:30 in the evening and I’m on my way home from drinks after work. Public transit runs less frequently at this hour and I hit the Metro at just the right time. A train is pulling up when I reach the platform and there are 12 minutes worth of grumpy commuters who’ve been working late that are waiting to squeeze on to this train.

Say good-bye to personal space.

I slither into a car, one of the last people to worm my way on, and am immediately aware that four guys who are each over six feet tall can now look straight down my shirt. All four of them do. Two don’t bother to look back up.

Admittedly, my shirt does whisper a little, Hi, did you notice my breasts? but this really isn’t what I had in mind. This is more along the lines of, Hey, did you notice the little bow on the front of my bra? Look at the scalloped edge of the black lace. Pretty, no? But the train is packed and there’s no place for anyone to go, so, whatever. Enjoy the show, boys. I have no buttons to button or sweaters to put on. It is what it is.

One of my voyeurs mumbles something about the train being crowded and warning bells of, Are you really talking to me on public transit? ring in my ears. I say nothing, but flash a stern glance of, You’d better play defense if I need you, to one of the guys who had the courtesy to look back to my face after admiring my breasts. His mouth quirks up on one side in response and I know I have an ally.

Thankfully, Ogler Number One takes the hint and continues to appreciate the view in silence.

One stop from home, Ogler Number Two shifts position slightly. We’re all ambiguously touching since the train is so crowded and I’ve had to consciously place my hand to avoid accidentally grazing his ass. Though his body is moving, his eyes remain glued to the same spot. He says to my breasts, “You know those farts you can’t smell?”

I lock eyes with my ally as my brain reels for something resembling a response. A response. Just what does one say when a complete stranger asks your chest if it’s familiar with farts that don’t smell?

Completely detached from my brain, my mouth answers honestly and desperately, “I’m afraid to answer that question.”

“Well, let’s hope this is one of those.”

Apparently it was.

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Responses

  1. I have no idea what to say. I wonder, often, what goes through the minds of some people.

    However, I will say that the title of this post made “My Heart Will Go On” get stuck in my head.

    Oh, and I guess those four guys need to go to the session about appropriate amount of seconds to stare at breasts! STILL not over that super-creepiness.

  2. Damn! That’s a Queen reference, NOT Celine Dion. :-( The tangents in my head were:

    Enjoy the show, boys. –>
    The show must go on. –>
    The show must go on
    The show must go on
    Inside my heart is breaking,
    My make-up may be flaking,
    But my smile, still, stays on

    Granted, my heart’s not breaking and I would never wear make-up that could flake (except when I cave to my sister and apply mascara), but… It’s Freddie Mercury, so it makes me happy. Despite the depressing foreshadowing for his life.

    I guess those four guys need to go to the session about appropriate amount of seconds to stare at breasts! STILL not over that super-creepiness.

    Yeah…that was a lovely aspect of that session. I enjoy the implication that it’s going to occur to someone to count to three (or whatever) while they’re staring at someone’s body. Personally, I’ve not found staring to be the most conscious of actions.

    I would say that only two out of those four guys “needed” that session. Honestly, I was just amazed and amused that they remained undistracted for that long. (Beware the hypnotic power of my breasts?) I don’t recall the last time I stared at the same spot for 10 minutes…but that may just take us back to the whole nature of staring.

    And remember, one of those guys was totally with me in being amused/appalled with the other two. The silver lining…I shall find it!

    And…I was really just amused.


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