Tits and Ask: Does a Well-Placed Sock Bring All the Girls to Your Yard?


DEAR KEN & ARIEL: Lately all the women in my office have been chirping over this new guy who apparently displays a pretty large bulge right around the crotch region. My personal feeling is the guy’s using a well-placed sock, but that’s beside the point. What I want to know is–do women ogle a guy’s crotch in the same way that guys’ eyes are drawn automatically to women’s chests? Let me know if I should be investing in socks.

ARIEL SAYS: You’ll be pleased to know that from a woman’s perspective, the answer is yes, no, and maybe. It all depends on whether our knowledge of the 31-plus flavors of the male member is limitless or severely stunted. 

If we’ve been satisfied beyond recognition by a collection of rather grand phalluses, then as you stroll by, we’ll be gawking like schoolboys, mentally calculating jeans-size ratio to the dimensions of the Washington Monument. However, if our experiences have been more Love Boat than Pearl Harbor (i.e., the motion of the ocean versus the size of the tidal wave), then we just look dreamily into your eyes and think soft porn thoughts.


Forget about a well-placed sweat sock–the real audition for bedside action is on the dance floor. Just because God gave you a tool doesn’t mean He included directions, and we’d like to see the trailer before the actual movie, if ya get my drift. So if you want to prove yourself to us, dance. And don’t give me that “boys don’t dance” shit. Can you shake your heiney with even a hazy sense of rhythm? Can you grind your hips with the enthusiasm of a power sander? Alrighty then, get to it. Maybe now you’ll understand why Dirty Dancing is part of every woman’s Criterion collection. PATRICK SWAYZE WAS A FUCKING GOD!


Oh yeah, I almost forgot. We all look at your ass. That is a universal girl move, regardless of experience. We all turn and watch as you make your way to hit the head, get a beer, or bend over (uuhh) to pet the dog humping your leg. Guaranteed, those two golden globes will have us transfixed, grasping the table for support as a delicate jewel of saliva glides down our chins.
 Caveat: you will not get this reaction if your derriere resembles a meager stack of flapjacks or two Mead single-subject notebooks. Start investing in pillows and save the socks for puppet shows.


KEN SAYS: I’ve always liked to think of females as the more demure of the sexes. Unlike men, who will burst into spastic chords of air-guitar every time a tight skirt or supple bust enters a room, chicks always seem a bit more calculating, silently sizing up their prey, and then moving in for the kill.
 As a fellow dick-owner, I’m always happy to see the flip-side. Women have a clear understanding of the power of their boobs, and most aren’t afraid to pack themselves into tight T-shirts just to remind us guys how easily we can be hypnotized or led into cross-town traffic. It only seems fair that a guy should be able to wield a small bit of that magic for himself.

But to most guys, the “dude in tight pants” phenomenon is just a sickening thing. Whereas chicks have no problem checking out—and openly critiquing—the competition (“Oh my God, those have to be fake” is a popular battle cry in such moments), guys (or straight guys anyway) have absolutely no threshold for checking out another guy’s crotch. It simply ain’t done.

However, to set your mind at ease, my young Jedi, I will offer that it doesn’t matter whether this dashing exec is packing a sock, a coupla carrots, a lead pipe, the Op/Ed section of the New York Times or a Sammy Sosa Beanie Baby. The most important—and most impressive—bulge in a man’s trousers is, was and always will be his wallet. And don’t let anyone tell you otherwise, pally.

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