I was at a local bar last night when suddenly the collective male eye shifted its focus to the entrance of the unassuming establishment. Two young femeninas walked in but only one was garnering all of the attention. This lovely lady’s cream and black sheath dress, which was particularly flattering on her form, caused every man’s jaw to drop. Still her companion was for the most part being ignored. As time and tide went on, I got a better view of the woman wearing the sheath dress and I notice that she was not as attractive as my initial impression led me to believe. In fact, I determine that her demurely dressed friend was far better looking than the woman with the sheath dress; she was astounding.
How could any man, infused with a cocktail of alcohol and testosterone, have missed such a rare beauty? It was that damn woman with the sheath dress playing visuals tricks on the room’s denizens. She was like an anglerfish, bringing her prey closer and closer with her luminescent lure, impossible to ignore in a world of such utter blackness. I would lay all the blame on the seductively dressed woman, but really she just knew how to play the game: men have low attention spans and she was just using visual cues to “catch her pray.” Fortunately for me the stakes here were not life or death.
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