Dating Jeans

Before my wife died, my jeans never knew I had an ass. So two nice Jewish ladies take me to the mall and objectify me. One for style and one for honesty. I always assumed that lovely jeans were like stilettos or a corset: uncomfortable attractors. Now I’ve learned the self-serving secret of clinging denim. I slide on my new jeans for the lingering thigh hug and stride the new world.