They all look the same, yet they are all so different. They come and go, though they really just want to come. They flock in their droves to this place, one place, the only place that matters, filled with clones, and they are just another drop in an ocean that is majestic and never ending. They try hard to be unique, but their individuality is hidden behind a look that says “come play with me’. They are all the same age, give or take a year, but they are mature and immature on so many other levels. They are a hidden gem, an oversight, never an aberration and they are all lonely. They, are the ladies who frequent the history laden streets of Charleston SC, they are the class of 2015, 16 and onwards. They are all stunning, and they are there to learn, to tease, to play and always to be looked at. They seem confused, but they know exactly what they are doing. Frequenting late night libation stops, in gangs, waiting, pondering, flirtatious, nubiles all of them, just wanting a partner, just wanting attention and finally, just getting what they deserve, nothing.
You see these young ladies are in the majority. They have signed up for four long years at a college where they outnumber the opposite sex by at least three to one. No one knows why this has happened in this particular part of the US, but it’s certainly obvious from the brief time I spent walking the streets of Charleston, and working in the college gym with some of the resident students, that this statistic is an absolute fact and a fact that the male students who are fortunate to come to study in these very same walls, are extremely grateful for. The thing though that I failed to understand and that’s evident from the pictures I’ve posted, is the similarity in the way all the women dressed. It seemed to be short shorts, nicely tailored around well fashioned rear ends, leaving not too much to the wandering imagination of this writer, and very skimpy, almost see through tank tops, worn with braless intentions, just enough to tease and flatter without looking overly pornographic! All very nice and ‘candy-store’ like, if you’re single and ready to date or single and just want to shag! Every day is a sunny day in Charleston if you’re a hot blooded male, with age never raising any kind of boundary.
The sexual revolution has long past. This was sex, pure sex, displayed without the usual government waring signs that normally appear on our TV screens before such flagrant displays of naked flesh. This was enthralling, certainly from the point of view that these young ladies bore little shame is their flamboyant willingness to explore their sexuality in the face of every tourist and every dirty old man who decided to look their way. This was an experience on an unprecedented magnitude, watching live, Playboy’s finest, cruising up an down streets where Anthony Ashley Cooper, William Moultrie, MLK and many others from our historical past, walked, often in desperation, often in hope, but never with eyes wide open looking at too many tits and bums. They would probably roll in their graves if they could witness this scene in 2014, or perhaps they would just do what I did, sit back, enjoy the view and then put pen to paper and write in their diaries that today, of all days, had been an extremely pleasant one and one that will be repeated every day into the future until fashion changes or these young ladies discover some modesty.