With shock I realize that I am not an unalloyedly nice person. My apartment mate is padding around in her baggy pajamas, and, as she left the kitchen after a drink of water, I thought to myself "dang that's a small rump".
A true gentleman would probably not consider that.
But instead have his mind on other things.
Something polite and philosophical.
By the same token, like any common man, I observe breasts. Which around me are always fully clothed, irrespective of whose they are.
And hips. And shoulders. And hands and feet. And faces. And eyebrows.
And cheeks. And legs. And posture. And noses.
And hair. And lips. And foreheads.
And dimpled knees.
My outward behaviour may be courteous and proper.
My mind inside is a curious waste dump.
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