A few casual observations
Half an hour later there is a similar incident with some curiously not dissimilar looking people. Female of double zero dress size in darker clothing, male in spotlessly bright white jeans and top that almost hurts the eyes it was so clean. His Mum must have had shares in Unilever. Exactly the same behaviour; they see me and leg it off the restriction with a screech of tyres. Again, I don’t mind, they are no longer causing an obstruction and I’ve got bigger fish to fry.
Later on, when the rush of the day has died down and I begin to work my way back to base for end of shift, several thoughts strike me. Firstly, I noted a number of analogous couples around town. The girls so skinny that if it wasn’t for the clothes, hair and makeup, you could be forgiven for thinking they were boys. The boys thin with blotchy late adolescent complexions and similar trainers, joggers trousers, sports tops and baseball caps. Likewise their cars shared a number of similar features. The four inch chromed exhaust ends, rear spoilers and body kits looked like they were all from the same catalogue. Rather like the aggressive driving style.
The car I can understand as a compensation for an imagined inadequacy in the above the knee, below the waist winkle department. However; the androgynous girlfriends? Hmm. Perhaps some budding psychiatrist / psychologist could write a thesis on it. From a generally detached viewpoint there’s something that appears particularly homoerotic about it; something vaguely anal. Especially those oversized exhausts. They can’t be penis substitutes, not at the rear of a vehicle.
I confess a bias here; girls who look like females (Curvy and dare I say statuesque) are far more attractive to this lecherous old fart than the skinny items I see tottering around on spike heels (Once called ‘Flat twins’ by the chaps in my peer group). Having two stepdaughters in their late teens / early twenties you tend to get a bit blasé about their semi clad friends wandering past on your way to the bathroom or items of exotic lingerie tangled up with your boxers when it’s your turn to sort out the laundry basket. I must be getting old, because nowadays my response to such a display of female flesh is more “Cover up you silly mare, you’ll catch your death” rather than “Phwoar!” At least, not while my wife is within earshot.
Mind you, I’m also from the school of thought which also states that girls who overindulge in the chocolate department should avoid short skirts or leggings. Those are so unflattering. Plenty of girls dressed like that around this week. Don’t ask me why. Must be something to do with these infernally incessant rain showers.