Why do women wear cleavage-baring shirts if you don't want us to stare at your breasts?--Want To Know
Why do men write questions like this if you don’t want me to make fun of you?
OK, yes, sometimes women wear revealing clothing to stand out, get attention or for validation reasons. (Similarly, we imagine you’re not wearing that Ed Hardy shirt for humanitarian reasons.) But staring at anything for more than a few seconds is just weird. Try it. Stare at somebody’s baby with a blank expression for a minute and see if it doesn’t earn you a breast pump to the eye.
Staring at things, even the wondrousness that is boobs, is plain ol’ bad manners, just as your mother, whose decolletage we bet you had no trouble not gawking at, always said. In conclusion, sir, we kindly ask you to take a few surreptitious glances at whatever sliver of skin a woman dares to bare in this weather, appreciate it, and then go back to your “Game of Thrones” drinking game or whatever it was you were doing.
I’m sick of being single but I’m also sick of going on endless first dates. In the past three months, I’ve had probably a dozen dates that never went anywhere. Am I choosing the wrong women or what? What am I doing wrong?—Anon
Well, Debbie Does Downerville, if your dates are anything like your emails, I’d say you’re in need of an attitude adjustment. Twelve dates in three months! Shoot, I know lots of guys who would be thrilled to share 12 uneventful glasses of Old Style with that many women in such a short time span.
But more to the point: I legitimately don’t know what you might be doing “wrong.” You didn’t give me much information to go on, and since you don’t mention things like your advanced leprosy or how you made your dates watch your “Lord of the Rings: Frodo Uncut” box set (with three years of additional footage!), I can only presume that you just didn’t have much of a connection with these ladies. Which sucks, I know. But if you think of it mathematically, it makes more sense. Twelve dates out of the million or so single ladies who live in Chicago--those are pretty low odds, statistically. And chemistry is unpredictable, like the wind or Joaquin Phoenix. You never know when or why or how you click with someone until you do. So buck up, my little bronco, and get back on that horse. And while you’re at it, please bring me a mug of Old Style that I am now weirdly craving.
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