PERSPECTIVE IS A FANFICTION REQUIREMENT; OR, WHY I LIKE VENN DIAGRAMS

As Gene says in Bob's Burgers, "what kind of maniac wakes up an hour early to write erotic fanfiction?" Tina Belcher admitted she did. Proudly.
I have a confession to make at this point. I have never written erotic fanfiction. Don't know if I even could. Not at five in the morning.
Tina has a complicated thing for zombies.
That may have some bearing.
Also buttocks.

Apparently, females will notice buttocks.

The fanny pat was invented by a woman.

I'm not sure how I feel about that. If some person of the girl persuasion were to yell "hey studmuffin, nice ass", I would assume that someone else was the target and keep on walking. No, I wouldn't turn around to see who she yelled at, or what pair of glutei maximi so excited her.
Because, after all, it's unheard of to yell something back.
A note of agreement and approval, for instance.
Yes, that welder does have great buns.
So round, so denim, so firm.
We can all agree.

Hear hear!

The buttock thing, of course, explains why all the girls are down at the football field watching practice, instead of assiduously swotting their algebra homework. Geometry and physics are much more thrilling than dry mathematical logic. The only overlap is the Venn Diagram, which is what some bottoms look like.

[The Euler Diagram is difficult to fit into this scheme. I would be keenly interested in other people's thoughts on this issue.]


Being masculine, quite naturally I have my own perspective on the rump. Unfortunately, being a single man, I never get really close enough to have a good perspective. Likewise breasts, waists, the delightful curve of the belly, thighs, collar bones, velvety skin, or small warm hands and kissy cheeks. This interferes with my ability to form an educated and informed opinion on these matters.

If I did actually get close enough, I would need to wear my glasses. My vision is perfectly fine for everything between three blocks and twelve inches away. It's those last crucial twelve inches that count. Without reading specs, I cannot tell the time, and have more often than I care to admit hit myself in the face with a teacup. Or a rice bowl. Or a coffee mug.
Stabbed myself fiercely in the cheek with a briar pipe.
And sometimes I've tried to light my thumb.

It's a lack of perspective.

I can imagine myself being smacked in the face by breasts.
Or thighs, and the delightful curve of the belly.
Small warm hands and kissy cheeks too.

There are worse problems.



If you are up an hour early, please feel free to write some fanfiction in the space provided. I'll approve it for publication, or respond to you privately, when I get back.




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