random humiliation
I think it's in moments of pain and humiliation that the best stories lie. I don't know if that's true. badnewshughes.blogspot.com is my idol. I'm an idiot.
I don't know if this story is going to work, but I'll try.
So there I am, with my twelve year old daughter in line for Space Mountain. I'm looking around, idly checking out the people for either interesting or horrifying people to look at. My vision is not so great anymore, and it's a little dim there in the loading zone for Space Mountain, so I have to work on the focus a bit. I focus on the woman in line ahead of us, just now getting into the front of the Space Mountain car. My first foggy glance registers probably an attractive young woman. My brain is just starting to process the first, most important question - is she a kid? Like I said, I've got a twelve year old, and I've gotten totally conservative about admiring any woman under about age 30. Anyone closer in age to my oldest daughter than to me is pretty much eyes-right look-away. Well, that's a lie. I wouldn't touch anyone that young, but over 20 is lookable. Well, that's a lie, I don't touch anyone anyhow except totally fraternal sorts of hugs. But 20 is still lookable, in a guilty sort of way.
So all this is roiling around and my brain is just registering: "twenty or so, I think, and pretty" when she gets into the car and her short khaki shorts ride up almost to her crotch, showing a fair bit of thigh. Primal instinct, pavlovian training, whatever, snaps to work and wooohooo, I'm trying to look up her shorts for about a second before more developed parts of my brain regain control. I'm not usually an ogler, it's just the sudden flash has caught the attention of my reactive animal brain. Then I look at her face again and she's seen me peeking.
So here's the question - what was that look on her face? Anger? Humiliation? Shame? Embarassment? All of the above? How would you feel, 20 years old, dressed not-immodestly, and some old geeze at Disneyworld is sneaking a peek up your shorts? The car glides by us, and she looks pointedly away with a blush on her cheeks, I think she's furious.
I'm an idiot.
Sorry about all the Disney stories. I'm an idiot. It just happens that my real life is pretty fuckin' quiet so all that gadding about with the hoi polloi loaded me up with stories of loathing and despair.
I don't know if this story is going to work, but I'll try.
So there I am, with my twelve year old daughter in line for Space Mountain. I'm looking around, idly checking out the people for either interesting or horrifying people to look at. My vision is not so great anymore, and it's a little dim there in the loading zone for Space Mountain, so I have to work on the focus a bit. I focus on the woman in line ahead of us, just now getting into the front of the Space Mountain car. My first foggy glance registers probably an attractive young woman. My brain is just starting to process the first, most important question - is she a kid? Like I said, I've got a twelve year old, and I've gotten totally conservative about admiring any woman under about age 30. Anyone closer in age to my oldest daughter than to me is pretty much eyes-right look-away. Well, that's a lie. I wouldn't touch anyone that young, but over 20 is lookable. Well, that's a lie, I don't touch anyone anyhow except totally fraternal sorts of hugs. But 20 is still lookable, in a guilty sort of way.
So all this is roiling around and my brain is just registering: "twenty or so, I think, and pretty" when she gets into the car and her short khaki shorts ride up almost to her crotch, showing a fair bit of thigh. Primal instinct, pavlovian training, whatever, snaps to work and wooohooo, I'm trying to look up her shorts for about a second before more developed parts of my brain regain control. I'm not usually an ogler, it's just the sudden flash has caught the attention of my reactive animal brain. Then I look at her face again and she's seen me peeking.
So here's the question - what was that look on her face? Anger? Humiliation? Shame? Embarassment? All of the above? How would you feel, 20 years old, dressed not-immodestly, and some old geeze at Disneyworld is sneaking a peek up your shorts? The car glides by us, and she looks pointedly away with a blush on her cheeks, I think she's furious.
I'm an idiot.
Sorry about all the Disney stories. I'm an idiot. It just happens that my real life is pretty fuckin' quiet so all that gadding about with the hoi polloi loaded me up with stories of loathing and despair.
posted by Swampdog at 9:39 AM
1 Comments:
Get a grip guy. This is uncool.
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