I was out walking down on the Mall with a friend on a recent evening. It was gorgeous, perfect, lovely to be out walking in the finally it's summer! heat.
It was that delicious beginning of summer weather that feels fraught with promise and makes you want to take off all your clothes and drink really cold beer out of the bottle while lying in a hammock on a porch. If I had a porch and lived way out in the country where I had no neighbors for miles - which actually will never happen because that is one of my definitions of hell - that is exactly what I'd do.
In any case, we were walking and this cute young guy jogged by. With no shirt on.
Which on the one hand was wow, because he had broad shoulders and a muscular back and narrow waist. But on the other, was kind of unfortunate. Because his shorts had slid down his hips to where you could see the top of his butt.
We saw him go by and remarked on it, and that would've been that. Except that we all got stopped at the same light on the next corner.
And he turned his back to us. I was wondering if we should tell him that he was showing butt cleavage. Just a little. Or maybe he wanted to show off? Or didn't care? Would he rather be told or not?
How do you tap someone on the sweaty shoulder and say, "Um, I can see your butt."?
I started to giggle. Like a dork. Cute young guy. Hee hee hee. I can see his butt. Hee hee. And he has no underwear on. Hee. . .Wait, what?
And then a larger question popped into my head. Was he really not wearing underwear? Wouldn't it be uncomfortable to run and have your wing-wang flopping around in the breeze? Why would a guy go out for a run with no underwear?
I knew that if I opened my mouth, all these questions would come tumbling out.
Thankfully the light changed. I giggled all the way across the street. Because I'm, like, twelve.
Oh, and Wonkette - thanks very much for the mention!