Dating flat chested
Now in bed together, I think of signposts, yellow and black, which warn of wet, winding roads ahead. Accustomed to giving feedback against an audition line of beautiful actresses, he immediately saw my issue. Teenage girls ran through the store, giggling and laughing.
I imagine tadpoles shimmying toward the moonlight, and the sounds of our lovemaking as if in a dream in which I am enough.Having been in Beijing more or less since July of 2010 (with frequent travel to other locales, of course), I've gotten pretty acquainted with the dating scene here in China.I've been with a good number of girls, have had a few girlfriends, and – as I like to dabble in all things – have been sporadically active in the different expat communities in Beijing.My strategy of supplementation began in preparation for the eighth grade spring dance.My stepmother, who had large D-size peaches and an apple behind, took me shopping.Over the years, my collection of push-up bras has grown to include many different colors and cup sizes to wear beneath various types of blouses.
I’ve dedicated an entire drawer to them, lined in a row so the bras gently cup one another.
And perhaps a man could accept me for both my flat chest and cushioning.
He kisses my nipple and lays his head in the middle of my silver-dollar-sized pancakes.“This is nice,” he sighs. It seems larger now that it’s taken center sky and pushed the clouds from sight. I know his body well, waking up to it, studying it while he sleeps, using every inch of it as a text for arousal, remembering back to that first night when his body was a verse not yet read.
Back in my bedroom, the moon is obscured by clouds, but I can still make out my lover’s profile. After the first time we had sex, he asked, “You do like to take your clothes off, don’t you? I just didn’t this time,” I said as if I had forgotten to brush my teeth.
The second time, I took them off, but I remember a laugh. The laugh bounces around in my head like a ping-pong ball tonight.“Do you like my body? His head rises off my chest, surprised at the question. Your legs are tone.” His hands caress the sides of my thighs. Sexy and curvy.” His fingers travel the high and low of my back. Now I know he’s delusional — or maybe that’s how he really sees me.
We should just be friends.”His guy’s girl comment might not have bothered me so much, except it was true. He often took me to the driving range and snuck me into the clubhouse for a Shirley Temple.