one sunday night mass and a nice, nice feeling.

Sunday night mass.

You sit beside a girl sporting a skimpy maong skirt. Of course you don't bother. You give the most unmalicious of glances a queer can provide.

The girl, with the air of harassment screaming out her face, asked, in whispers, her guy friend to sit between her and you.

Good omens!

The guy friend. He's cute.

You will hate the assuming skimpy skirter for the nerve to wear such on a mass and acting oh-everyone's-getting-horny-'cause-of-me kind of crap! Oh puhleease! But you will love her to her roots for blessing you with a looker rubbing shoulders with you while listening to the homily.

And those constant glances he throws your side! Him looking at you when you're looking the other way. And you snagging a shot of him when he's fixated somewhere else. You just thank the Lord for the nice, nice feeling. Har!

So! All the girls in the world please sport your most horn-growing tops and skirts, tag your good boys along, go to the mass and assume that all men species (including queer ones) are hitting on you!

And you think you know well enough girls? *Choked chuckle* You have no idea!