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I treasure my feminist credentials including my status as "honorary lesbian," conferred upon me one drunken night in a mixed gay bar across from the YMCA in Amarillo, Texas; the only actual "nightlife" in all of Amarillo at the time that wasn't a honky-tonk. But I am a Male. I look at boobs. I admit it. It's good to have that off my chest.
My name is Bob, and I'm looking at your boobs. Nothing personal, it's a Y chromosome thing.
But I'm a total subversive and I want to turn the dominant het-male paradigm on it's ear. Unfortunately, I've found that dominant hetmales not only think mainly of boobs, but tend to think like one.
To the extent that hormonally-determined masses of fatty tissue think, that is to say.
Whatever your message to the boobs you wish to Cluebyfour, it helps to remember that like speaks to like.
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