I was fighting exhaustion the other day as I went alley by alley, garbage can by garbage can, looking for scrap metal. It was cold and about a foot of fresh snow covered the ground. Under these conditions, travel by bike is difficult at best, and the contents of construction dumpsters are completely obscured. So private garbage cans in allies seemed like as good a bet as anything else.
Most of the cans were pretty empty though. I looked down in one and saw flesh tones and blonde hair. That's not metal, true. But I was feeling randy and I thought I'd have a look. Sure enough, it was a flier for Playboy's Cyber club. Anything that might add energy to the situation seemed worth a look. I mean, after 200 empty cans, anything amusing would help me continue.
"Too cold outside? Come warm up with me!" was the caption to a photograph of a 20-something blonde girl standing outside in the snow, completely nude except for a pair of white leather boots and a pair of white leather gloves, with which she obscured her most private sector. Her large, perfectly formed breasts were on full display beneath her beaming smile. Her nipples were full and completely erect (due to the cold weather, no doubt).
I admired the photograph briefly, then found a way to fix it into a nearby telephone poll, so that other passers-by that cold day might enjoy it as well.
Just as it is never a coincidence when I meet up with somebody on the street, it is rarely a coincidence when I happen upon material like this.
Basically, somebody wanted to derail my attempt to start something with a very intriguing girl who did not, um, resemble the girl in the photograph.
Knowing this, I didn't ignore the photo. Another thing about photos--just as interviews in publications, the subjects of photos may well share present time knowledge of ME. I came across a Victoria Secret catalogue featuring my favorite supermodel, Marissa Miller. I swear she was looking right at me while she modeled those bras! So this naked girl--it was something, I don't know what, but something more than just a photograph--as any such photo would be. So I gave it a little attention.
The girl I was interested in (not in the photo) had recently given me some negative feedback. Yes, this was probably some sort of test, and given this the passing behavior would have been to woodenly ignore the flash of skin tones and continue on my way. But these tests are dumb and I personally did not think any such test would promote relations with this other gal one way or the other. If she did, she was wrong.
I wasn't pining after big-boobed blonde girls--maybe somebody wanted it to look like I was though, in order to derail the incipient flirtation (the life-cycle of which is documented in this blog). People have to be bigger than this--people like the whole foods girl.
