the scene: An outdoor artist’s fair/festival on a weekend. A hot summer day, T-shirt weather.
There I am, admiring the wooden carvings displayed on one of the tables. There are lots of tables, each manned by a local craftsman with his stuff for sale. It’s crowded , and people are pushing in both directions as they walk thru the festival on the sidewalk.
As I stand facing the table , with my back to the sidewalk, I realize how crowded it is by the number of soft bumps I am receiving on my back.
Now, I am a true gentleman of proper upbringing…
But I am also a red-blooded male. And I was surprised by the number of women who didnt seem to mind bumping into me. If I was facing the other direction, I’m sure these women wouldnt want me making contact with
their breasts. But when it’s impersonal, anonymous contact with my back, then apparently it’s okay.
How do dopers of the feminine persuasion feel ? Most of the women passing by could have rotated their bodies a bit and bumped me back-to-back, or perhaps crossed their arms in front and bumped into me with their elbows. But instead, I received a steady massage of soft nudges.
Now, I ain’t complaining or nothin’…