Boob Fascination

By Lauryn Botterman

It is among life’s most confounding mysteries: WHY are guys so obsessed with boobs?! It seems that even the slightest hint of cleavage can drive a man wild. Ladies, if you’ve ever had to remind a male companion where your eyes are during the course of a conversation, you know exactly what I’m talking about. Somehow, a perky pair peeking out of a low-cut dress never fails to attract attention.

Perhaps the magnetic allure of breasts stems from primal instincts: they’re squishy, soft, and fun to play with. They are often swathed in pretty lace and patterns, and look even better bare. In contrast to the muscled, sturdy, masculine physique, the smooth curve of breasts—whether large or small— is a symbol of femininity. I’d imagine that being in the presence of several well-endowed women holds a sort of “forbidden fruit” appeal—you can look, but you can’t touch. It’s a tease, after all; these plush, fascinating components of the female anatomy sit just a few degrees below eye-level, posing a constant distraction. But unless you’re prepared to take a massive bitch-slap to the side of the face, you must overcome the urge to reach out and grab 'em, however tempting they may seem.

When you really think about it, though, boobs are meant to serve one sole purpose—providing nourishment for infants. Despite the inordinate amount of money women spend on all varieties of brassiere in an effort to support their bosoms (i.e., push-up, strapless, demi-cup, underwire, wireless, sport, plunge…), breasts are merely collections of fat and mammary tissue. So why are they such a turn-on? We are often puzzled as to how a glimpse at “The Girls” can induce gawking, drooling, and the sudden loss of the ability to form coherent sentences. And yes boys, we can hear your not-so-subtle whispers of “daaamn, look at the rack on her!” to your wingman as you both shuffle to a prime chest-viewing vantage point. You could at least try to be a little more discreet when admiring our assets.

Although we certainly know how to use our boobs to our advantage—they can get us into parties, earn us free drinks, and form a handy compartment for our money, ID and phones—they can also be über annoying. We spend as much time bitching about our breasts as you guys spend ogling over them. Sure, they might look hot, but they become sore and bloated every few weeks when our monthly gift arrives. In order to go for a jog, we have to strap those puppies down into a tight, spandex device just to keep them from bouncing uncontrollably. And we know that they’ll eventually lose their youthful, sexy perk and succumb to the forces of gravity. Sad, but inevitable.

So men, remember that second base is not a right, but a privilege. While we may not fully understand your boob infatuation, we will never underestimate the power of a little cleavage and a tight-fitting shirt.