Autumnal Moves

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Autumnal Moves

Just another incident of Seasonal madness

It used to be, every fall I’d get depressed and turn to my favorite drug for relief: sex, specifically, Big Boobs.

I don’t understand where/why/how this fixation came about for me, and I don’t really care.

But I have this sneaking suspicion I’m not alone in this.

Breasts, as they are called in polite, grown-up circles when they are discussed at all, may have once had the function of feeding babies, (that’s what I’ve heard anyway). And there’re organizations of women (mostly women with an occasional nutty man thrown in just to confuse us all) who dedicate big parts of their lives to encouraging this ancient, primitive, mammalian activity.

But for me and I’m fairly certain, for a lot of other men, big boobs have little to do with passing along important nutritional benefits from mother to newborn, nope.


That’s what ‘formulas’ and sterilized baby bottles are for.

Big boobs are for making men stare and drool internally and fantasize all these ridiculous things.

Big boobs are for making us follow them around a grocery store pretending we’re looking for grocery items just so we can stare/glance at them again, more, a little while longer —

Another ridiculous aspect of my autumnal madness is that I shouldn’t even be commenting on this, at all, about how often I try to pray away this pounding lust in my heart and groin.

It’s immature of me and childish and I should be scolded as if I were a ‘Naughty’ school boy — ‘Naughty’ being the perfect pejorative for condemning my behavior because it diminishes my attraction/urges/fixation to something petty and silly and unimportant.

But here’s the deal, it seems to me that, big boobs exist as a result of a kazillion years of evolution (which actually is a real thing whether we try to pray it away or not, a lot like lust)

Evolution: guys got taller, women got bigger boobs. Is this because babies, suddenly, got hungrier?

Bullshit. It’s because guys mated with women who had glorious, amazing, tantalizing, big-boob-genes.

You want further proof? Take Twitter: covered in an avalanche of cleavage and big boob shots and big boob references/mentions/delights where naughty guys like me abound and pretend we care about women’s witty comments while we stare longingly, endlessly, at their big boob pics.


when fall comes again ladies no amount of warm winter coats, and thick baggy sweaters can save you, from our thoughts and fantasies...

So we’ll see you soon in the produce aisle, or wherever else you roam, at the local Safeway store. And when we smile at you in the check-out line and say, “Have a nice day.” You can be sure that we’ll maintain eye contact for only as long as you do.

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