Let me begin by saying I am a petite woman with a small frame. There’s no polite way of saying this, so … I also have big boobs. Real, REALLY BIG, boobs. Because I don’t appreciate the stares or comments, over the years, I’ve grown accustomed to wearing jackets and other items to hide my dimensions. But I’m over 40, so I’ve had them a while, and I forget about them. For the most part, my friends and family forget about them too. Now that I am dating again, especially dating people from two online dating sites, I am reminded of the boobs a bit more than I like.
First, there are the initial messages:
“Wow! I like your photos, especially the one that shows off your curves.” Delete.
“I like curvy athletic women. We should get together.” Delete.
“u r hot. I like the way the purple shirt looks on you.” Yeah…the purple cardigan apparently shows off my curves. Delete. I removed that photo too.
“Your body looks lovely. Are they real?” Delete.
“Nice boobs.” Delete.
There appears to be no real difference between the comments from those on Match or OkCupid, so the paid site doesn’t weed out the rude.
Most dates have not been boob-dazzled (the act of being so completely blinded by boobs that one cannot look away often enough for polite conversation or mind one’s manners and not make personal remarks about another person’s anatomy), but those who have, do so with gusto.
Dave 1 is an educated man; he holds an engineering management position at one of the local shipyards, so he knows how to “act.” During our meet and greet, he did a valiant effort to keep his eyes up as we chatted. My black jacket over a cardigan-style top probably helped too. As we chatted, his eyes bounced down, then rapidly back up to my face. I kept wondering which shirt I had worn, and how much cleavage was showing. I excused myself to the bathroom to find I had a v-neck shirt on. On most women, very bland… on me… not slut-wear, but definitely a distraction if one is boob-dazzled. Delete Dave 1.
Dave 2, another engineer, stared into my eyes during each of the questions he posed while we completed our Starbucks meet and greet. Yet, every time I took a sip of tea, looked out the window, or turned to see what the people around me were doing, I caught him starring slack jawed at my boobs. I excused myself early. Sigh… Delete Dave 2.
Justin stood to greet me when I walked into Starbucks. He looked like his photos: tall, brown hair, greying at the temples, brown eyes, and a tightly trimmed beard. His jacket was draped on the back of a chair, and his t-shirt showed that he worked out regularly as claimed. I could see the bottom of some sort of tattoo peaking from beneath the hem of his sleeve; his profile mentioned one medium-sized tattoo. Now I knew where it was.
As he recognized me, I guess I also looked like my photos. He helped me out of my jacket while saying, “You are tiny.” I never know how to respond to that type of comment; I did my usual and said nothing. He already had a coffee, so I walked up to order. On my return to the table, he didn’t stare, but he looked, long and hard. It was so blatant that I almost laughed. He recovered to hold my chair and carry the conversation as I wondered how long I’d stay before bolting. As he chatted, and his eyes remained off the boobs, I learned about his job and children; he learned about mine. We both lift weights, so we chatted about workouts for a while. Both of us had been on the dating site for only a few weeks, so we traded some dating horror stories. When It was time to leave, I was glad that I had stayed; he seemed like a fun guy who liked a lot of the same activities as I. He walked me to my car, and asked if we could do a second date. I agreed.
Justin took me to dinner at Wicker’s Crab Pot. He wanted seafood, and the restaurant was my suggestion. We sat side-by-side to accommodate sharing a Steam Pot, and we chatted easily. I learned that he had been enlisted Navy, but had earned a degree to become a Naval Officer about 15 years before he retired. He learned about my career. After our meal, he again helped me with my coat and walked me out to my car. Once there, he leaned in for a kiss; tentative at first, he then applied more pressure and raised one hand to cup my neck… and the other cupped my right boob. Seriously??? In a parking lot? On a first date?!!!! As I moved his hand away, he said, “They’re real?!?!!” ……Sigh…. Delete Justin.
Brian also made it past the meet and greet. We met for dinner at Sakura. His blue eyes remained on mine throughout our conversation. I like sushi and shashimi; he likes sushi and shashimi. When the waitress offered a sea urchin special, he agreed to try it. I like people who are willing to try new things. Using chopsticks with reasonable skill, we both traded the rolls, trying everything from our plates. Our conversation flowed smoothly from concerts we’d seen, to growing up in northern climates, to our jobs and children. It was obvious we were both having a good time. He brushed my attempts to pay aside with, “My mama raised me to be a gentleman who pays for a lady.” He walked me to my car, leaned in for a hug, and bussed my cheek. Nicely done, I thought… And then, as his blue eyes, which had been gazing into mine, dropped, “I just have to ask; are those real?” NO you didn’t HAVE to ask. I responsed, “Excuse me?!!” as I opened my car door and slipped inside. I’m glad he had only my Google number. Brian, whose mama raised him to be a gentleman while paying for ladies, clearly forgot a thing or two gentlemen do not do. Delete and block Brian.