Hold it Up

If someone knew they would get away with a bank robbery but still wouldn't do it, I would never date that person. That sort of integrity rarely leads to honesty, at least not the kind I like.

There's a guy, his name doesn't matter, and his claim to fame is that he's always flat out truthful. Blunt about it. "I'm looking at your breasts," seemed to be his most common thing to admit, or at least something physical/sexual in nature. Which is fine, it's what I'm thinking about most of the time, too, but why is it that bare honesty always seems to revolve around admitting something sexual? Are there things we lie about more than sex, or how often we're thinking about it, or how we'd really like to be having it? I'm sure there are, but at the same time I'm not so sure. I think that, to some degree, it's the easiest type of thing to admit. There are some aspects/secrets that people genuinely don't want to tell, but sex never seems to be in that category, who isn't dying for that perfect social situation where everyone is TOTALLY DISHING about how hot it was and what could've made it hotter. It's pretty fun.

Sexual taboo is, at best, a white lie. We seem to be dovetailing away from the Victorian modes of "chastity," which only served to create new, far more intense fantasies and a handful of effective putdowns (i.e. bastard). Why it is we hate our own behavior I'll just never know, there are so many other ways to be obsessed with sex, but some people can't seem to get enough of what they hate. But I suppose it makes sense. Even if people are doing something you absolutely abhor, there's still (or at least should be) a part of you that's insanely jealous that they're doing it, and noting inspires jealousy like the sex you're not having.

I'm looking at your breasts.