Hello, Angels, Maggie has returned to a dating site she used while in Florida. Now that’s she resides in a different state, it is imperative to check out the possibilities from old dating sites in new places. Almost immediately, she found a gentleman, and she uses that term loosely, who wanted to meet ‘the lady with the bosom’.
She, being willing to give a loser, er, man a second chance, acted as though she had not read his naughty little first advance. For a couple of messages, all went well. The ‘gentleman’, however, could not leave well enough alone. Once more he noted the bosom he saw in a picture and asked if it belonged to her. He stated that if it did, then Maggie had very smooth skin. Frankly, Maggie was stumped, as to what picture he referred.
Hoping to get past this faux pas, she said the only thing she saw in the picture was the arm of a person helping to hold a pup steady in a pose.
He returned with the news that perhaps Maggie should take another look at said picture, because an arm was far from the only thing showing.
Hastening to her cache of photographs, she pulled up the one used on the site. Being a lady, immediately a blush covered her dainty cheeks, as she gazed in horror at what the picture truly held. Her daughter, whose arm Maggie had seen, held the pup in place. Alas, a short space over to the right, her chest showed all of her charms, as her peasant blouse swooped low, unbeknownst to Maggie. That is what the man saw. However, when Maggie pulled up the pictures on her dating site, only the arm showed.
She let him know what had happened and that the lady was her daughter, who would be mightily embarrassed to know such a photo existed. She then thanked him for letting her know of the compromising pose, where upon she cropped the picture to show naught but the pup
Lesson learned, though it happened amongst a host of embarrassing steps. So, my darlings, remember when putting up images on any site, lest you be thought a harlot, check them and check them again, for blushable items. Crop, if necessary.
Alas, t’was not the end of the story. The ‘gentleman’ beseeched Maggie to not hold his comments about her daughter’s charms against him.
“Nay, Sir, ’tis not that.” Said she. “My chagrine is that any ‘gentleman’ begins a conversation with a woman, especially a stranger, by discussing her bosom. ‘Tis rude, beyond measure.”
After one or two short further conversations, it is believed that, at last, the gentleman became the embarrassee and removed himself from the conversation.
Maggie felt no remorse at his leaving. Rather, she moved onward speaking to those who appear to be real gentlemen and perhaps a conquest may be in her future.