Dear moJoe,
The other day my friend Kirsten told me this story. She had been talking to some of her friends at school about horrible things that their exs had done. One guy, who we'll call Not His Real Name (NHRN), won the contest with this line
You think that's bad, I bought a $5700 pair of tits!
Here's what Kirsten and I were wondering. Fake boobs look different, do they feel different? Can you tell the difference by touch alone? If a girl gets fake ones during a relationship , does it change the way the two people touch? And if the guy pays for 'em, does he get to touch them whenever he wants?
Curious in Canada
Dear Curious in Canada,
As I sat by the pool enjoying a foot massage being administrated by my comely and curvaceous personal massage therapist, Kaly; I mulled your inquiries over. Interrogatively I investigated your orison for enlightenment via surveying the menagerie of topless lingerie models lounging gracefully at my capacious poolside.
As the summer sun beats down upon their heaving, well oiled bosoms I feel moved to poetry; I am a great lover of the female breast. Should any of you ever be invited to attend one of my gala poolside gatherings (not likely) you may note a marked absence of veiny, unnaturally static, grotesque breastoids existing as a mockery of the female figure. This is because my squadron of well-trained snipers--whose presence hovers over every corner of my sprawling estate--generaly pick them off about 2000 yards from the fortified entry checkpoint.
I'll not skirt the issue another moment, they are an abomination of nature, a derision of both medicine and science and a slap in the face to those frothing maniacs over at the woman's liberation movement. They not only look and feel different, I swear that sometimes I believe I can actually smell the silicone.
Men--the loose-knit horde of simian imbeciles that they are--as dictated by the laws of the Gods and nature, are supposed to have a fanatical attraction to the eighth natural wonder; the female breast. They, along with childbearing hips, rosy cheeks, etc; are a sign that the flower is in bloom--so to speak--and the female; ripe to bear you a manchild--or some such Freudian, psycho-babble nonsense.
I'll not be fooled by some hideous Proctor & Gamble knock-offs. If a true car collector wants a Ferrari they are not going to be impressed by your poorly built kit-car. The faux poitrine are inferior in every way and it certainly does change the way that I touch them. When they were real, I might have graced them with my physical attentions; the chances of me touching something that looks more like a tumor than a breast is nil I'm afraid.
This culminates to a point of natural ethics as any man who is just as attracted to something created by the Dow Corning
Chemical Corporation as by Jesus is obviously defective. Jesus makes the highest quality breasts for free, men who think otherwise are not only idiots but sacrilegious to boot; execution is too good for their like.
This brings us to and answers your final question. Idiots do not deserve to look at or even contemplate breasts let alone touch them. They are a privilege, not a right; it doesn't matter what he paid for them, he has been excommunicated from the human race. Sorry pal, you are out of the club and the dues were non-refundable.
Technically he may own a very expensive set of nauseating, pseudo-plastic-encased silicone sacks and really, if he wanted to fondle them whenever he wanted he shouldn't ever have let them be surgically implanted into some brick-headed, pop-culture-blinded bimbette. I feel the immortal Zeno phrased it best when he said, "Tough shit".
Now in order to truly touch his precious sacks of revolting goo, he must remove them from her body; otherwise he is, in fact, touching what is left of her actual breast. Those still belong to her, much to his disappointment I'm sure. This poses another problem as, though he may own the brestoids that are now native to someone else's body, getting them out without her consent is going to be pretty messy and a lot more expensive than just going and obtaining the services of a haggared, drug addicted street walker; as he should have done in the first place.
We live in a world where deranged women think it's a fantastic idea to augment their chest size by having synthetic sacks of toxic chemicals surgically placed under their breasts and then have the audacity to get all weepy when their body attempts to physically eject their stupidity through their pores. Often, the immune system has more common sense than a stone; this cannot be said for the greater population of this planet. Most of you are a waste of my air.
We live in a scum encrusted delusion in which, men are actually warped enough to be excited by the prospect of being completely duped, getting all bloody obsessed over this sort of trashy foolishness and often; encouraging it!
idiots.
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