“Are you kidding?” she answered, “He looks like he only just left his parents.” “Well, what about the guy with the red tie?” “He’s gay...” she laughed, “Just look at the way he moves his hands.” “OK, how about the one in the corner over there?” “Damn, you’re so not a woman,” she giggled, “He looks like a psychopath. Let me choose.” I felt a little flummoxed, but I had to admit that I wasn’t the best qualified to pick a partner for her. Obviously, the guys I thought she would like weren’t to her. Some plump woman made me stand while she measured me, I wore a thin dress, there are no uniforms here, and when she wrapped the measuring tape around me a shiver ran through me, my father had warned me about these feelings, I have taken care to avoid touching myself and to feel someone else was mind blowingly embarrassing, made even more difficult by the hatred I have for my chest. I am lead to believe it is attractive but I don’t think so, until today I’d never met another women and I suppose. More

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