Boobs

I've always been a big fan of boobs. Big ones, little ones. Real ones, fake ones. Even manboobs will occasionally do in a pinch. It's something that goes back to my childhood - when I had to suck on the teat to survive.

My love of the boob has stuck with me through the years.

So, not long ago, when a friend of mine (with boobs) asked me to accompany her on an evening out, I couldn't say no. Her boobs and I went to a party in Silverlake together.

This turned out to be not so terrible a decision.

The people at the party were refreshingly like-minded and I seemed to get along well with most of them. This is a rare occurance for me here in Los Angeles, as more often than not, I would rather jab people in the neck with a pen instead of spending time talking to them. If I have to hear about one more pilates class or meet one more yoga instructor, I'm going to fucking snap - I swear.

But I digress, these were good people.

My companion, however, got completely wasted before 8pm and used her time to alternate between trying to kiss me and trying to kiss an exotic looking redhead with big, surgically enhanced boobs. At least she had good taste.

So there I am, having a good time, chatting it up with people - occasionally making out with this girl - when all of a sudden she runs over, grabs my hands, and places them firmly onto this stranger's lady lumps. One minute I'm talking about pizza, the next I'm grabbing fist fulls of tit.

I wasn't sure what to do - I froze, like a deer in headlights. Do I grope? Do I pull my hand back and apologize? What if I just gently squeeze and offer a nice compliment?

I was forced into the role of the aggressor without being prepared.

Thankfully, my companion chimed in and asked in what may be the most unattractive voice ever heard, "Aren't they just fucking awesome?"

The redhead smiled and waited for an answer - I was saved.

Being the boobie connoisseur that I am, I took my time confirming my drunk date's hypothesis. Eventually I concurred; they were, indeed, fucking awesome.

The redhead was flattered, but now my date was annoyed.

Women.

"Mine aren't fake but they're nice too!" she belted and proceeded to remove my hands from the redheads boobs and place them on hers.

Aint this a bitch. Now what's a guy to do? If I agreed that her boobs were great too, it would only lessen the impact of my compliment to the redhead. But I couldn't exactly halve my options for the evening with a "meh" response to my date, either.

This, my friends, is what you call being stuck between a rock and a hard place.

I think quick on my feet, though. So I managed to immediately kick into super-agent, genius spy mode and subdue the situation before it escalated any further.

I quickly moved my hands to her ass and nodded proudly, "Great ass."

This seemed to please everyone. Including me.

The rest of the night is a bit of a blur, as I joined my date with our new redheaded friend in tow and continued to drink heavily. I'm sure someone eventually discussed their spinning class, but I must have been too drunk to care.

Needless to say, I woke up sans boob.