Ha! I knew that’d get your attention. Is there a queue to read this? With Old Knudsen at the front.
Well it’s not what you think. Well not really.
Sam, being the problem child she is, asked a question in the comments of my previous post.
“Tits and arse is all yee think about.”
What percentage of your attraction to a woman would you say was down to tits and arse, and what percentage personality? I’m not having a go - I don’t happen to believe all men are yahoos completely in thrall to their willies. I’m just interested is all. I think all we women want to know that.
Whether this is a battle of the sexes or a battle of the body parts is up to yourself. I’m just dragging it out in the open - her question may never be seen buried in comments, along with a reply from Eolaí (I’ve manually added it to this post’s comments).
For me it’s eyes. The eyes say it all. I’m not talking about deep brown ones, sparkling green ones, bright blue ones - I admit they can be like spanners and make my nuts tighten. I’m talking about reading they eyes. The spark. The life. One look into the eyes and you know if there’s interest and attraction. If there’s joy, wit, intelligence, caring. You name it. You can meet the best tits and arse genetics ever put together, but if the eyes are dead you run for your life.* Okay, an extreme example, but check out Paris Hilton’s eyes - they are soulless, lifeless, dead.
What do you think? Maybe Sam’s question can’t be answered. Maybe it’s just down to taste. The only thing we knew for sure about Henry Porter is that his name wasn’t Henry Porter. Sorry, had to throw that in - today’s Bob Dylan’s birthday.
*Well, maybe a quick shag, then run for your life.







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