I really admire Victoria Dahl’s writing. My friend recommended her when I’d finished my first erotic romance and I discovered while researching query letters that (gasp!) not a lot of erotic romance writers put out the comedic stuff. Was anyone out there writing erotic romances that were kinda funny besides me? Victoria Dahl was, and I’ve been a fan of hers since.
Anyway, in her blog on Tumblr she talks about boobs (Sadly the post no longer seems to be up). What amazed me when I read this is that I’ve always thought men had what I’d called ‘Fuzzy Vision’ too!
Fuzzy Vision: When a man focusses on specific elements of a woman’s whole self/persona and only sees certain details (boobs, smile, level of hostility/friendliness/horniness) with clarity. The rest becomes a blurry, vague impression.
Female friend: You like Julie? Really? You mean the woman with the blue earrings?
Male friend: (remembering Julie–small tits, killer smile) Maybe…
Recently I took the time to talk to my Sweetie about this thing I call Fuzzy Vision. He hesitated before being willing to consider endorsing such a hypothesis, suspicious that it was some sort of put down about men.
Not at all, I reassured him. In fact, I adore Fuzzy Vision. I can stomp around the house looking like Sasquatch, but if my hair is down, then I’m still beautiful in my Sweetie’s eyes. Fuzzy Vision is what allows women like me who make no effort with their appearance to meet and mate with superior specimens (like my Sweetie).
Meanwhile, we discussed that I, as a woman, have a kind of Fuzzy Vision too. For instance, I cannot seem to remember any kind of car make and model–including our own*. No, the only car model I can always spot is a Jaguar. Go figure. I mean, I can spot a mini, or a hummer, or something completely obvious, but point out some mid-sized four door thing and I’m clueless. However, every now and then I’ll point to a sedan and say, “That’s nice,” and Sweetie will say “That’s a jag.”
So here’s to Fuzzy Vision in all its forms–from the kind that prevents guests noticing your dusty living room while you chat with them to the fuzzy vision that prevents my husband from noticing how much I’ve aged because my rack is still looking great. 🙂
*One time I parked during a chaotic St. Patrick’s parade on a block in our nation’s capital. Going back later I was vaguely certain of where I’d parked, but thought the car was missing. Was it stolen? I didn’t know, but I simply could not find it. After driving around with a policeman for half an hour, he finally spotted it because of make/model, plus the out of state license plate. So embarrassing.