She was showing major sideboob. Like delicious sideboob that had tractor beam intensity that mimicked the Death Star. When I first noticed as I was waiting in line for my morning coffee I wondered "Oh my god why doesn't her boyfriend tell her her tits are falling out?" and then when she walked further down the counter trying to decide what other Cuban pastries she was going to have I noticed that it was actually a fashionable cute loose top. I hate to say but it was like a pair of curtains that tied around her neck and came down covering her chest but leaving the middle part open. It tied loosely in the back and covered her up, but from behind at the right angle, the sideboob was there for all to see.
I did what any gentleman would do. I caught a swift glance as i focused my view onto the floor. Then I noticed her hairy ankles. It was odd cause normally women I have encountered tended to leave the higher parts of their legs unshaven but her ankles had patches of stubble similar to my own face. I wondered maybe her boyfriend was into hairy ankles. It is 2016 after all.
And then I heard the couple behind me.
"I think that is the style." said the woman behind me in her native tongue.
Who wasn't that old mind you. Mid thirties tops but with her reaction you would think she was in her late 70s. I didn't think the hairy ankles where something to be appalled at until I realized that the woman was actually talking about the young woman's top and sideboob. Like not even trying to keep it to yourself. It was like the couple in front, me and the couple behind. I was sure that if I heard it, the young lady must have as well but it didn't seem like she did. The young hipsters were madly in love with the other's coolness that the couple behind me's comment sailed over their heads.
And then I felt bad. Was I kind of scummy for briefly indulging in the glory of morning sideboob? I pondered was their a difference between they way we as a society accept sideboob and as opposed to how we accept cleavage? Why is it ok for the woman behind me to flaunt her expensive out of the show room hooters while the younger definitely legal and more than likely college aged woman in front was restricted from showing her natural spring meadow sideboob? Why do we blame the sideboob and the sideboober when we are the ones directing our eyes toward it?
It was then that I could sense the leers of all the lecherous men trying to get their glance in, some not even respecting the boyfriend and his perfect hipster beard and over the knee shorts. They might as well have pushed him aside and brought out total stations to survey the horizontal slope. I wanted to grab the one in the corner trying to get on his toes for a better view and yell to him "You don't have to stare like a maniac man! Just glance over as if you were reaching for a napkin! Be civilized man, use prereferral vision!"
But the couple was too much in love to even notice. They had each other and their Urban Outfitter catalog faces. Perfectly soft and rounded. Bearded faces and ankles that are more than likely going to the Cure concert later this year.
It was at that moment when I began to hate both of them with the passion of a thousand suns. It was also the moment when the girl asked for a meat pastelito. The same meat pastelito that gave me liquid diarrhea for two days. I paid for my coffee and went about my day.