cleavage

Cleavage

(Published in the Chicago Tribune Sunday, November 30, 2003)

I was giving a seminar one time, and during a break a very attractive woman touched my sleeve, and said, “Hi, Norm, how are you doing?”

This caused a mild dilemma, for I had no clue who she was.

Did I mention that she was good looking? Yeah, I thought I did. But what I didn’t mention is that we were all wearing nametags. Nametags are that wonderful invention someone came up with to try to prevent social embarrassment when a group of people who meet infrequently, or for the first time, get together. It’s supposed to reduce clumsy introductions. So I shouldn’t have a problem, right? Just check out the nametag, run the name through the old memory banks, and voila, no problem.

I mentioned that she was wearing a dress, right?

With cleavage?

And not just cleavage, we’re talking Considerable Cleavage.

I noticed this, but only because I’m a guy. So it’s not my fault.

But even worse, do you know where her nametag was? Yep, right on her bosom, both near to and too near, the ravine of wonders. So my mind was racing, trying to figure out how to check out her name tag, without making it look like I was drinking in an eyeful of cleavage for a cheap thrill.

I stammered out an answer, wondering where the heck she knew me from, and also wondering how I could direct her attention somewhere else for a second, so that I could take a quick look at her nametag.

Then I was saved. Another acquaintance showed up, and the woman’s attention flickered to him for a second. Unlike mine, his eyes were firmly locked on her bosom as he approached, though I’m sure it was for innocent reasons. Did I mention it was considerable cleavage?

So I took advantage of the distraction, and took a quick peek at her chest. My thoughts were pure. But, without will, … my …eyes …. were ….drawn ….irresistibly …. to … her ….well, you know.

Her eyes swung back to me, and mine guiltily sucked back into the sockets. Damn! I still didn’t know who she was.

Now my acquaintance was looking at me, an expectant look on his face. And so was she. And I realized to my horror why. They didn’t know each other, and were waiting for me to introduce them to each other! My brain retreated into the safety of record-lock, and all of a sudden, I couldn’t remember his name! For that matter, I couldn’t even remember my own name.

Total mental breakdown!

That one peek drove everything out of my mind, except Cleavage. And there was simply so much of that, there just wasn’t room for anything else.

I was saved by the bell, because right then we were called back into the seminar. Somehow, my mind snapped back into focus in time for me to speak intelligently.

But I still never got over my ‘some-timers disease’ regarding the woman’s name, and I haven’t seen her cleavage, um face, since.