Artist on front: Lykke Steenbach
“Go talk to her” I urge an old male friend.. “she looks fun”… I hadn’t seen him for a few years. And with a bookful of drink vouchers we were both feeling just around about merry.
“Hmmm” he looks over at the two girls giggling at the bar. Clasping his leather briefcase, I shove him in their direction. With a facebook timeline oozing babies and marriages I decide I need to make new girlfriends to play with. I mean have fun with. I push my buddy in the direction of his penis.
“Go on.. go..” I whisper encouragingly in his ear.
My friend oozing charm walks over.. and introduces himself. He starts whittling on about some of his passions in life. And they seem to enjoy the topics of conversation. With everyone giggling away and alcohol having dulled everyone’s senses he suddenly changes direction and looks down at my friends chest area… “Fake?” he splutters pointing at them with an air that could have initiated a reaction that could have gone either way.. I cringe.. but she smiles and laughs.. “yes”.
She looks down at her assets and all eyes in the circle suddenly direct themselves to her chest area. “How can you tell that?” I demand forgetting to think. They certainly didn’t look fake. To me. “Lets go for a cigarette” she offers.
Five minutes later.. she is removing her top.
“So… do you want to touch them???” she asks. I hadn’t seen fake breasts before. I look down at mine. And back at hers.
Erm. I start to wonder if I’ve been flogging a dead horse with the male species.
I look at her. And I feel confused.