|This is a note from Kilkenny Ireland in 2001, about a time that when I was working at a restaurant there.|
So I showed her the correct door back to the dining area.
She was about forty years, long dark hair, and thin. She wore a light, bright string-shoulder top that exposed the tops and sides of her breasts, which were nice. She wore leather pants.
It's amazing what some women will wear," I said to Gillian and Dennis in the kitchen. It bugged me, a little bit.
"I'm surprised," said Gillian, "You're from America; I'd think you'd seen it before."
Yes, I'd seen it before. I never quite understand it, though. I try. "It's like she's saying 'Fuck me if you can.'" Gillian objected to this rather strenuously. I've seen that before, too. She cast it as if that's typical male attitude. But I was having none of that.
I suggested that Gillian's position was a denial, but I don't think that's accurate, exactly. Her attitude, wholly typical, is probably not intentionally deceptive. (And after all, it would make me no friends to propound that women are intentionally obscuring their scheming ways.)
I would suggest that women generally may not know that what they do is for the man, because no advantage would come from that knowledge. [And let's face it; if sexy attire is not for the men--or women, if that's the orientation--it certainly then is done with bold disregard for their peace of mind.] ...