Dirty Old Men...

REALLY DO EXIST. You know, phrases like this one and "baby's daddy" and other coinages that seem almost funny in their obscure absurdity really baffle me when I witness them full throttle. There have been 2 dirty old men in particular that have been patrolling the beaches and pools of Maravilla this week, and I have been covertly watching and eavesdropping on them.

Our first encounter was at the pool one afternoon. We were enjoying rinsing off our beach gunk in cool chlorine late on Wednesday when we saw these interesting characters. At first they seemed innocent--even grandfatherly--but that soon changed. First, they took off their V-neck undershirts, began scratching their hairy beer bellies, and slipped, or rather plopped, into the water. Then they began commenting through grunts and snickers about each woman at the pool. They didn't discriminate their comments based on race or size, but they were definitely breast men.

What pushed me over the edge was when they moved their comments toward the teenage girls who were flirting with boys their own age and having chicken fights in the pool. The rounder of the two men kept trying to get his buddy's attention, "You've got to watch the girl in the polka dot bathing suit. Every time she jumps up in the water, her boob almost comes out under her bathing suit. Wait... Wait... Look... There she goes. Did you see that?" They sat there gawking at this adolescent, and Patrick and I could hardly keep from gagging. Needless to say, when we left, Patrick brought my towel over to the edge of the pool so the Dirty Harrys couldn't see me in my baby bump glory. He was trying to protect my modesty--how sweet.

On the way home, we vented about their nastiness. I asked Patrick if he thought he'd turn into a DOM one day. He said you don't just TURN into one--it's a reflection of someone you've been becoming your whole life. {don't think he really appreciated my question. :)} He then ranted about how we will need to raise Addy and encourage her to be modest. I just started grinning, picturing all the conversations that will take place in the future...

Anyway, since then, we've seen them at the beach and the pool--poking each other when a well-endowed woman walks by or a group stops to pose for a photo. It's sick. But I keep watching them watching the others--what does that say about me??? Well, I'm taking our camera tomorrow to try to snap a shot of these men. Patrick says he'll help me find the perfect moment.

REALLY DO EXIST. You know, phrases like this one and "baby's daddy" and other coinages that seem almost funny in their obscure absurdity really baffle me when I witness them full throttle. There have been 2 dirty old men in particular that have been patrolling the beaches and pools of Maravilla this week, and I have been covertly watching and eavesdropping on them.

Our first encounter was at the pool one afternoon. We were enjoying rinsing off our beach gunk in cool chlorine late on Wednesday when we saw these interesting characters. At first they seemed innocent--even grandfatherly--but that soon changed. First, they took off their V-neck undershirts, began scratching their hairy beer bellies, and slipped, or rather plopped, into the water. Then they began commenting through grunts and snickers about each woman at the pool. They didn't discriminate their comments based on race or size, but they were definitely breast men.

What pushed me over the edge was when they moved their comments toward the teenage girls who were flirting with boys their own age and having chicken fights in the pool. The rounder of the two men kept trying to get his buddy's attention, "You've got to watch the girl in the polka dot bathing suit. Every time she jumps up in the water, her boob almost comes out under her bathing suit. Wait... Wait... Look... There she goes. Did you see that?" They sat there gawking at this adolescent, and Patrick and I could hardly keep from gagging. Needless to say, when we left, Patrick brought my towel over to the edge of the pool so the Dirty Harrys couldn't see me in my baby bump glory. He was trying to protect my modesty--how sweet.

On the way home, we vented about their nastiness. I asked Patrick if he thought he'd turn into a DOM one day. He said you don't just TURN into one--it's a reflection of someone you've been becoming your whole life. {don't think he really appreciated my question. :)} He then ranted about how we will need to raise Addy and encourage her to be modest. I just started grinning, picturing all the conversations that will take place in the future...

Anyway, since then, we've seen them at the beach and the pool--poking each other when a well-endowed woman walks by or a group stops to pose for a photo. It's sick. But I keep watching them watching the others--what does that say about me??? Well, I'm taking our camera tomorrow to try to snap a shot of these men. Patrick says he'll help me find the perfect moment.