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Nice tits

  Fri 16th September 2011

We came back from the elderberry plucking, hands dyed after forking the berries off. In Glasson, car drivers advertised the smile that they do when they get out of their cars in a pretty place having put no effort into getting there. Afterwards we went for a drink in the Borough where we met a Grammar School party of two Argentinian teenagers and their cheery but monoglot English hosts. The boys looked a bit lost, coping, as if everything was happening to them. I felt sorry for them, having to behave in a second language.

My phone beeped. It was Karen, commenting on the previous post and saying that she hoped we could all get together again this evening. What?! Helen had shown Karen this blog. I was alarmed at the thought of her having read it, trying to recall what I'd said about her; but her text wittily preempted my worries about it.

Given that I referred in the last post to Karen's desirable front elevation, I walked into the pub, winked at her, nodded at her chest and said "Nice tits!" We spent some time wistfully looking back on the days when drugs were plentiful. I met a man who had lived in Denmark for a long time and we talked about the secret continuance of illegal Halal methods of slaughtering pigs. Everyone except me and Karen smokes so we were steered outside; eventually it became chilly, and I had to collect a cake from someone, so I made my farewells.

"Hey," Karen said, winking and making a little nod towards herself. "Nice tits."

4 comments

Comment from: jonathan [Visitor]

I could comment on every second sentence, but will limit myself to offering my opinion that your wrongfooting deployment of the Front Elevation Complementation Gambit in the pub there was quite magnificently judged. You’ll be aware that in the hands of an amateur matters could have taken an ugly turn there (I remember misjudging a similar move in a Newcastle West End pub in 1986, and ending up having my head kicked in after closing time by a boyfriend who, not content with mere already-existence, was sitting in the next seat listening in to the conversation. But that’s another story).

By the way check your emails Looby! Go on…


Fri 16th September 2011 @ 23:41
Comment from: [Member]

Thank you. I was rehearsing it as I walked towards the pub, no doubt looking like a loon as I nodded and winked to an imaginary friend.

Why do men react with violence to that sort of situation? Surely knowledge is power, and you feign indifference, store it up for a few days, then once the time is right, just gently approach the subject of whether your girlfriend is interested in playing away, and how we can deal with this. Bashing someone’s lights will not stop the desire.

Or, he could just take a less uptight attitude the flirting. It doesn’t always have consequences and it’s a very enjoyable recreational activity.

Email in one word: yes.

Mon 19th September 2011 @ 13:01
Comment from: heybartender [Visitor]

I will never understand a man who gets pissed at another man for noticing his lady. If you are that insecure, then she is clearly not Your Lady. Nor do understand, mind you, a woman who stays with a guy who beats up other guys for silly shit like that.
Seems like your reception in this case was good, though, which is nice.

Tue 20th September 2011 @ 23:48
Comment from: [Member]

Thanks, my thoughts entirely.

The remark did go well, but then Already Existing Boyfriend wasn’t there.

Wed 21st September 2011 @ 11:24


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looby, n.; pl. loobies. A lout; an awkward, stupid, clownish person


M / 56 / Bristol, "the most beautiful, interesting and distinguished city in England" -- John Betjeman [1961, source eludes me].

"Looby is a left-wing intellectual who is obsessed with a) women's clothes and b) tits." -- Joy of Bex.

WLTM literate woman, 40-65. Must have nice tits, a PhD, and an mdma factory in the shed, although the first on its own will do in the short term.


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