Sensing It

You don't have to grab an ass, or cup a boob, to make someone feel violated.

Sometimes, all it takes is a mistaken gesture to remove lint from someone's hair to jolt a person away with fear of molestation.


I'm a guy (at least most of the time). So, I think it's because of my man-sense that I react with annoyance to infiltrations of my personal zone without the shivering creeps. Even when another guy of prominent mal-facial deformity has his chin over my shoulder to peer between my chesticles, I merely furrow my brow and typically say, “hey bro…watch out. I'm getting your humidity." But it's not like I get the shudders, as if I had to claw across a chalkboard to shed millions of spiders crawling up my bare chicken legs and off my taint.

I guess the differences with the sexes are few and far between. In addition to the five senses men have, women seem to develop extra sensory receptors through life. I’ve come to know these senses as the eeewwwss, the gross, the awwwss, and the yummss.

The eeewwwss:

Stimulation of the eeewwwss typically signals a response of a quivering at the tailbone that emanates up her spine and on to the neck and shoulders, raising all her back hairs along the way. Think of it as a woman feeling like she was soaked in nasty and was reacting to shake it off.

The prevalent means of stimulating a female’s eeewwwss is from a male’s unwelcomed touch. It’s the palm on the small of her back. Or it can be the modestly less frequent hand on her crossed legs. Her eeewwwss sensory nerves even extend throughout her head of hair, so a reach to remove hitchhiking particles from her flowing locks can cause a sudden onset of uncontrollable shivers.

The best remedy is for we fellas to keep our hands to ourselves. Just remember to be H.I.P. and keep your Hands In your Pocket. If you’re walking together and she starts drifting away lost with confusion, shout a turn-by-turn with corresponding bopping head gestures when necessary. Guide her with vocalized lefts and rights, avoiding the use of compassing with north, south, east, and west (sense of direction is a male-specific trait after all). It doesn’t even matter if a car is barreling towards her or an eagle is about to diarrhea on her freshly Pantene’d doo. Stay H.I.P. because you’re better off shouting “Hey! There appears to be a misfortunate event on an intersecting path with the exact route to which you are traveling!!!” As her eeewwwss subside, she’ll touch you first – even if it’s a punch for being a smartass.


...to be continued - "the gross, awwwss, and yummss."

~edit~

The gross:

As an acidic churning mostly centered in her “I’m not hungry” organ with the occasional reflux gagging, the gross is her reactionary sense to the putridity of a male stimulus lighting her retinas. Sometimes it comes from looking at plumber’s crack. Most of the time, the gross is a response to a man’s sneaks.

Let’s clear the difference between the “peek” and the “sneak.” Peeking is flattering. Men can point to a shooting star and steal a peeking half-glance at her boobage while she admires the fading stream; it’s forgivable and complimentary. Sneaking is along the lines of adding mirrors to one’s shoes in order to gawk up skirts. Know the boundaries.

Women have eyes just like men, and them pupils want something good to look at. The gross bubbles whenever women catch men drop-jawed, drooling, and rubbing palms with an unbroken stare at her friend’s girly parts despite the whore uniform. Stay between extremities. A man should keep somewhere between a homeless Steve Buscemi and a four-eyed, pocket-protected, child molester. Don’t be too dirty, or too clean.

The awwwss:

Think puppy, baby, or even a black and white photo of a child holding a single colored rose.

The yummss:

It’s the chocolate that melts in her mouth, or the scoop of ice cream she shouldn’t have had. Everyday of her life she denies herself the sinfully yummy. So when the time comes to tantalize her taste buds, women close their eyes and savor every moment before the guilt settles in.


The end…
A half-assed ending to a less than inspired article, I know. At least I finished it…haha.