What I bring to the series is the ‘accidental’ bop with breasts. Is it really an accident?
It’s happened to me countless times over the years, when women I work with, for example, will be standing next to me at my desk and reach for something and I get bopped. For a long time I always thought it was accidental, but then one day I realized that they’ve lived with these breasts for 20 or 30 years at least, and they should know by now just how far they extend. So they’re doing it on purpose, right?
On the other hand, lacking breasts for comparison I have knees and elbows that I’ve always owned and occasionally I bump them. So I suppose accidents happen sometimes.
So, what does it mean when a woman bops you with her breast? For the drink serving girl at the bar, it means an extra $5 from me each time it happens.
[sub]I never said getting bopped bothered me. Quite the opposite, in fact.[/sub]
You go about your day (tra-la-la!) and then it happens, Unintentional Contact (U.C.). You slop your sleeve in your lunch, you nudge the person next to you with your elbow, you step on someone’s foot.
The Unintentional Contact Quotient is, what? about 3%? (3% of the time you get a U.C., 97% of the time you are U.C. free for a given action.) (Except me. I have a U.C. rating of 7%, but like Soupo says “Gee Dad, you’re clumsy.”)
So, if you are getting bopped by random breasts, smile at your good fortune, and get on with your day. If there is a breast that bopps you more often than U.C.Q. would account for:
A) This chick is clumsy.
2. She digs you, baby.
-Rue. (who still has no clue, but hate s to see a good thread sit idle.)
Nothing really to add, but I just wanted to share an interesting story. A lady here at work has a crush on my supervisor… her breasts were also put together by a technician very close to G-d, so…
Whenever she comes into the office to chat or ask what my supervisor is doing, she stands behind his chair and talks to him as she pretends to be looking at his computer screen. The entire time she sits there with her boobies on either side of his head.
My colleagues and I think this is hilarious. But the best part is that my sup. never noticed that she was doing it 'til we pointed it out one day.
“Hey Jered?! Can you hear her over her tits?!”
BTW, I think Rue DeDay is onto something there.
Speaking as an actual possessor of breasts: as Rue says, Unintentional Contact will happen. It isn’t like there’s muscles in those things, either, so we can’t yank them out of the way if we realize we’re on some kind of collision course - the way we all can with, for example, elbows or knees. So breasts do sort of tend to bonk into things (including people) from time to time.
Just the occasional breast-bonk (jeez, what a term) is meaningless. I suppose if it was repeated often enough it could have some kind of significance. Perhaps just “Hey, I need more room than this when I’m going through a doorway,” though.
I personally find that appearing so scary and/or intimidating that no one wants to venture within five feet of you greatly reduces the amount of “accidental” breast contact.
If you like women, that’s not a good thing, is it?
I’m clumsy AND my boobs stick out a lot, so accidental contact is pretty common.
Now that I think about it, I tend to stand closer to the men at work than I do the women, so I’m much more likely to bump the men. I’m also not very self-concious about it, so when it happens I don’t get embarrassed and try harder next time to make it not happen. So if I am making one of my co-workers’ day a little brighter, it’s not intentional, but I guess I don’t mind.
You know what’s nice? Bossomy dentist’s assistants. Although for them is would be … O.C. as in Occupational Contact but still. Only you can’t look, there eyes are right there just inches from yours and they will so know if you look but that nice squishy feeling on your shoulder just makes the pain melt away.
<<but then one day I realized that they’ve lived with these breasts for 20 or 30 years at least, and they should know by now just how far they extend. >>
Er, not exactly. I hit puberty at 11, was wearing those little stretchy triangles they call a training bra for a year or two…then “blossomed” into a B cup, where I stayed until 18. Suddenly, whammo, overnight, the Bosom Fairy came and be-bosomed me. I must have been at the end of her route or something, because she dumped a whole basketfull-- nay, TWO whole basketsfull-- of extra squooshiness on my bosom. I woke up a D cup about a month later.
I spent about five years, if not as an adult, at least at an adult height, being used to a certain size. Now I’ve spent seven years being a quite different size. Mostly this requires purchasing vests, jumpers (in the US sense…the skirt attached to vest type garment) and other such things that will cover my chestal area when I drop food, drink, and inkpens on it. If I can’t manage to keep my own lunch off my nipples, how am I possibly going to keep your perhaps-moving body parts off them?
Corr, who doesn’t mean anything particular by “the brush” but doesn’t really care if someone wants to quietly get their jollies from it