And God created woman

Well, my fourth turned out fairly well. My large group of friends- whom one girlfriend described as an extended family, I believe with both the positive and negative implications that are inherently implied- all gathered at a 1920's mansion up in the hills. Very Gatsby. I, in honor of the feel, wore a button down white shirt with a tweed vest. Turns out it was a pool party. Thanks to my buddy Tim for insisting I bring my suit. Still, it is tough to be Gatsby in a bright orange swimsuit decorated with overly large Hawaiian flower prints. Got to get something a little more sauve.

The group of revelers besides my "family" were mostly young, hip actor wanna-be types, and middle aged, ultra hip musicians. I believe some psuedo models were there too. More on that soon. I did minimal mingling, as I am still in that stage of "so you wanna hear about how shitty things are for me". That never goes well with small talk.

Along with the swimming and BBQ, I would occasionally ogle some of the model-types. I am, after all, still a man, one who needs that fleshy visual, and thinks of women as objects. That is until I get to know them, at which point I either hate them for their shallowness, or idolize them as my next wife, and subsequently shut down for fear of ruining our "courtship" by revealing something about myself.

The reason, however, I keep refering to them as psuedo model types is, they really didn't look that good. Most were wearing bikinis, and had the requisite overly large pastel tinted sunglasses. All model fashion musts. It's just that there bodies were... well, they looked like tenderized meat. You know, the kind that is pounded with that wooden hammer with all the spikes in it. Their breasts were small, very model and in my opinion a plus, but their torsos were flat and wide, and their asses were hanging down over the back of their thighs like someone had draped clothing from a hook in their lower back. Not very model.

Of course, none of them would actually acknowledge my presence. VERY MODEL. Could it have been they were aware of my ogleing and judging at the same time. Mmmm, could be.

I know it is all very hypocritical of me to be saying all of this about their bodies just a day after I was bemoaning my own sorry lot of not being an Adonis in a town that requires that quality, but that is why I am so complex. Shallow and complex. God, I hate myself. Love myself. Hate myself. See.