Miss Information

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Dear Miss Information,
The last few girls I’ve made out with have all worn these huge padded bras. It’s not sexy to grab a handful of stuffing and I feel like it’s a major fraud, scam, etc. I like big breasts. I have since I was thirteen. I’m forty now, and I don’t see that preference changing in the next lifetime. I know women want to look good, but I also don’t want to waste time with someone who doesn’t make my cock jump when she takes off her top. Has anyone else ever written in about this? How can I pre-screen without looking like an asshole? — Fill My Cup


Dear Fill My Cup,
Man, you and Emily Yoffe. Both of you really have a problem with fortified undergarments. Her ire is aimed at padded-bra wearers of a different demographic — namely, tween girls who shop at Limited Too. She outlines her gripes in this epic rant which ran in Slate a few weeks ago.
Adolescents are too young for tricked-out lingerie! What a horrible society! What sick marketers! says Yoffe. (Note: Not at all her exact words — I’m just giving you the highlights.) Personally, I disagree. Girls that age are obsessed with breasts. There’s nothing more normal. Why not let them experiment the right way — with a little bit of well-placed lining instead of scratchy toilet paper or lumpy bumpy Braille boobies cotton ball stuffing? If you raise your daughter right, she’s not going to become a body dysmorphic self-hating tramp over something as mundane as two nylon triangles and elastic. Then again, Yoffe tends to read into things a little. She also sees a gigantic metaphor for pussy where others see the Baby Phat logo.
I find your bitching almost as hard to tolerate, Fill My Cup. Yes, a padded bra is a bit like false advertising. But what isn’t? People have the freedom to outfit themselves however they choose. For dates that usually means putting your best foot forward. Anything that can be found outside of a costume store is fair game. Guys cheat too, you know. Johnny’s arm hair connects to his chest hair which connects to his back hair which connects to his neck hair, which is why you’ll never see Johnny in anything less than a long-sleeved shirt with an Oxford collar. Numerous times I’ve been showering with a guy the morning after, only to discover I just copulated with someone suffering from toenail fungus. What am I supposed to do? Demand all men walk around in sandals? No thank you. The day I go permalesbian is the day I hit the town with a guy wearing Crocs.
The only way around this is to get busy early and dump the ones that don’t meet your mammary standards before they start talking relationship. You could also take out an online personal proclaiming yourself a breast man or get a job at a Hooters or a plastic surgeon’s office. I know these sound silly (except maybe the first one). Readers, some more practical suggestions for my tit-loving friend?


Dear Miss Information,
I had a one-night thing with a very sexy guy I met over Labor Day. We wound up getting drunk and fucking in the host’s bedroom at a barbecue. The next day he told me he was leaving for college in a town two hours away that I’ve never been to. I’ve been calling and emailing (not too much!) but he seems a little distant. Should I just give up and expect this? How much contact is normal? I’m willing to play hard-to-get if I need to. Should I? It was just one night. Why am I so into him? — Holding On to Labor Day Fun

Dear Holding On,
It’s borderline sleazy he didn’t tell you he was leaving before he slept with you. That right there tells me he’s not the most sincere of gentlemen. However, it sounds like the whole thing happened rather quickly and the slut margin skews a little wider for federal holidays and end-of-summer barbecues. My most memorable Labor Day involved French kissing a boy while fully clothed in the shower. Why were we in the shower? Because we had gotten in a food fight and were covered in pineapple upside-down cake. Joining us in the shower was some other girl and the guy’s best friend. Why were they in the shower? I don’t know. I do know they got kissed though. Their fault for being in the crossfire.
It’s often difficult to craft a relationship out of a one-night stand. Living in different states and being in your freshman year makes it that much harder. You’re lonely, insecure, and bombarded with new stimuli. Guys you would have dismissed as total cheeseballs back home you now regard as Kings of Cool just because they’re smoking filterless foreign cigarettes and reading pretentious crap in coffee shops. My first crush at MSU was a guy named Valaire, if that tells you anything. Sophomore year was spent regretting all the hot air I wasted defending my flirtation with this supercilious prick to my then-boyfriend. Could any of this be affecting your judgment?
Expect to hear from him once every few weeks, maybe more when it gets closer to the holidays. He’ll likely get in touch when he wants to line up his winter-break booty call. Hometown ass is one of the best parts of December. Certainly beats inappropriate gifts and tasteless, waxy chocolate. Until then, if you want to hear from him more, call him. Just take the hint if he keeps sending it straight to voicemail.
Taking a trip to go see him? Again, up to you. Might be fun if all you’re expecting is a good lay and a chance to explore a new town. Sophomore year I dragged my best friend along on a road trip to see a guy at another school. He got back together with his ex that same weekend, but at least I got to see Ted Nugent’s now-defunct bow-hunting store and flirt with a bunch of his friends at a party. Having another reason to be in town takes the pressure off. It might be a good idea to find one before you go.



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