1) On Saturday afternoon, innocently, walking to the Eaton Centre to buy some shirts even, I witnessed a 30-something woman who was not of poor appearance lift her skirt in a fit of mania and expose her clean-shaven vagina. This was one of the clearer views of a vagina I’ve suffered in my adult life, and it reminded me why I have such an ongoing distaste for their aesthetic appearance.
2) Far more satisfying was the evening jog in the rain I took. A woman who is a member of a gang of alcoholic bums I’m aware of (which gang of alcoholic bums being ostensibly led by an individual known to me and others as “The Frisbee expert” due to his constant encouraging of Frisbee games and even more constant interloping in the Frisbee games of begrudging “norm” Frisbee participants) and who is the type of woman I wouldn’t usually look twice at due to her rapid alcoholic decline, was now shirtless and beating her chest tribally in the downpour. From a solid 30 feet and without my glasses her body was not just aesthetically pleasing but indeed the representation of an ideal—friends, brothers: the wonders of Allan Gardens never cease.
3) Then, as I, shirtless from above-mentioned rain run, boarded the elevator, a young college man, having just moved into my building and sweaty from humidity was also shirtless in the elevator. Though no tension existed at first I had to offset any potential tension with the joke, “So, two shirtless dudes in an elevator…”
“Nobody saw this happening. Nobody wanted it to happen.”