I was walking down the street this afternoon, feeling good about life. It was a beautiful day - I went for a run, got some sun in the park, I was wearing shorts with no hesitation. I was walking down the block - nay, strutting down the block - and I noticed this really pretty girl going in my direction. Black, light-skinned, long hair, looking very lovely. Heads were turning as she walked by.
Being the ambitious walker I am, I loped past her and thought our my interaction was over, thankful enough for the visual rendezvous. I was half a block away when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned around, removing the earphones from my head. It was the pretty girl! She said: "You have a really large bug on your back, and it's getting.."
She didn't finish the sentence but began brushing something from my back. There were three points of contact, and I remember this as distinctly as if it happened moments ago. The first point of contact was my upper back. The second point of contact was my lower back (at this point I was thankful I had exercised and felt moderately attractive. I don't THINK my back felt like a baggie full of pudding as she touched me.) And then, dear reader, the third point of contact: the pretty girl brushed her hand along my upper butt. Perhaps she was misled by the length of my shirt; perhaps she was trying to cop a feel. I'm not mad at her either way.
And let the record show that throughout the whole encounter, from the moment she spoke until after I said thank you and she continued her journey down 6th Avenue, causing men to follow her progress with laser-like precision and the primal determination only a hot spring afternoon can summon, I did not see any bug fly away from my person or tumble onto the sidewalk.
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