In context of lives well lived, I am a young man; and this isn’t about to be some whiny, woe is me, I’m getting old post. I have, however, started to become one of those guys who compares the world to things that happened in “my day.” It wasn’t my lack of appreciation for contemporary music that pushed me to this acknowledgement, nor was it suffering the indignity of a sex sprain. I am declaring my premature fogy status because I have become increasingly uncomfortable with immodesty.
I’ve never made a secret of my online dating adventures. Recently a woman sent me a message; I skimmed her profile, looked at her pictures, and was immediately put off by her bikini shots. That the bikini has become the standard swim suit for all women not swimming competitively is something that I have accepted. That it has grown smaller by the year is also sartorial Stare Decisis. Putting that imagination extinguishing picture in an online dating profile for all potential suitors to see is a bridge too far for me.
A woman’s body may be the world’s most perfect creation, and I love seeing as many of them as karma and life will allow. I just don’t want to see that body before I know your name. This might mark me as a prude, but really, is there no modesty left in this world?